Three Decembers
by Emerald Riddle
Summary: Ron died during his sixth year at Hogwarts and a year later, Hermione and Harry still feel the loss. Then Draco Malfoy comes along and sets off a chain of events that will change their lives forever. HarryxHermionexDraco threesome fic! Details inside.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in anyway.**

**Title:** Three Decembers

**Rating:** R (for later parts)

**Warning(s):** Het, Slash, Substance abuse, Poly relationship, small amount of Teacher/Student, Character Death (post and pre)

**Ship(s):** Harry/Hermione/Draco, Harry/Hermione, Harry/Draco, Harry/Ginny, Hermione/Draco, some implied Harry/Severus

**Summary:** In the December of his sixth year at Hogwarts, Ronald Weasley died. Throughout the year afterwards Hermione and Harry turned to eachother (platonically) for support. Then Draco comes along and new feelings are introduced, secrets revealed, and friendships and relationships both end and begin. Takes place 7th year and ignores all occurences in HBP.

**Author Notes:** The first part starts off with Hermione writing in her new journal. This is not the way the entire story is told- just specific parts. Please feel free to correct any mistakes in a comment. When all parts are complete I will be posting this as a one-shot. Everything is in its working stages. Nothing is final.

**Three Decembers**

_By Emerald Riddle_

2006

**

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Part I: Prologue

Hermione Granger chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip as she looked outside of her window. Snow gently fell from the sky and onto the slopes of white that were the Hogwarts grounds. She rose her hands to rub the sleep from her eyes and was startled to find tears running down her cheeks. She wiped away the tears, looking down at the quill she had poised above a stack of parchment. Silently, she bowed her head and in the candlelight, began to write.

_Dearest Journal, _

It was last December when Ron died. The year has been hard to get through; extremely hard. Sometimes it seems that whenever I close my eyes I see that bright green light enveloping him, stealing the life out of his body, and slowly fading. I awake sometimes, sweating and crying, remembering it.

Hermione paused in her writing for a moment; thinking.

_It's hard._

She paused again.

_However, it's getting better. _

Harry and I were only sixth years, we shouldn't have had to see our best friend die! We should not have had to learn how to live without him. Yet, somehow we did. We learned-

Hermione frowned and scratched that out.

_We coped, and we are still learning. The hole is still there, no matter how many things we do to fill it in, and I am afraid it will never be completely gone. Sometimes I am afraid it will be gone. Sometimes I'm afraid that I'll forget him. _

It is a hard thing to explain. For about as long as I can remember we were three. Now that there are only two of us, there's this huge gap where Ron used to be. There is no replacement for Ron; there never could be. Nor do we want one. I just wish we could fill in the emptiness I know we both feel. We want balance, and that is what Ron always provided us with.

Is it really so surprising that Harry and I grew closer?

Hermione pondered that last statement and concluded that it wasn't, and that nobody should have really expected anything else.

_We have never dated, and we've been best friends for years, but now it is somehow… different. The best example for us would be Fred and George. Twins. Always together, always connected. Deep down inside, I just know it is unhealthy. Two people should not cling so desperately to each other after a tragedy. Harry… He's worse off than I am. He's hiding his emotions inside, I can tell._

Hermione wiped more tears off of her cheeks and glanced at the tear splattered parchment. She added one more line before going to sleep.

_I miss Ron._

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****

**Author's Note: _Oh, my. I haven't been updating my account much, now have I? I honestly haven't been writing much fanfic recently, but I'm hopeful that with more free time, I'll get back into the routine. I have many fanfics to finish (coughHazardousSanitycough). Anyway, welcome me back to fic with a few reviews, please! There's some more of this prewritten!_**


	2. Quidditch Practice

**Disclaimer: _I do not own Harry Potter._**

**Three Decembers**

_By Emerald Riddle _

2006

**Part II: Quidditch Practice**

* * *

Hermione Granger was walking down to the quidditch pitch. Snow crunched beneath her loafers and her large school bag was slung over one shoulder. It was a ritual. She came to each of Harry's practices unfailingly. She was known to sit in the stands, rain or snow, and either study the team's playing or finish up some left over homework. The few times she didn't go was when she was ill, or when her head girl duties demanded it from her.

Harry loved to tease her about bringing her school work to practice, but it didn't bother Hermione at all. She was of the opinion that quidditch was in no way as interesting as her Arithmancy class. Of course, she never bothered to tell Harry that. There was no doubt in her mind that he wouldn't understand by now.

As soon as she stepped into the stadium she knew something was different. There were several players in red and gold facing off several in grey and green in the very center of the pitch. Hermione's hand tensed around her school bag strap.

_This cannot be happening, _she thought to herself, almost feverishly.

It wasn't supposed to happen anymore. She could barely believe it, even though the proof was staring at her straight in the face. For the last two years, Dumbledore and the rest of the staff (even Snape, though to a lesser degree) were exercising a brand new school policy: School Unity, House Unity, and Staff Unity. Over and over again has it been said that they needed to stand together during the war, but most of the students disregarded it as just a ploy to make them easier to handle.

Since the students wouldn't take matters into their own hands, the staff saw fit to. Any case of house bias, and a staff member would take care of them. The consequences were harsh. Not only that, but the houses were now forced to have more inter-house activities. The rivalry was drastically toned down after a year of use, and now was only vaguely there at all. Hermione was very pleased with the outcome, though she can still remember quite clearly how Ron had stood up after the change was announced and looked straight at Draco Malfoy as he said that "he would rather be tortured days on end then ever become friendly with a Slytherin".

She sighed.

A slip between Gryffindor and Slytherin now would throw every effort they made off-balance. Hermione couldn't allow that to happen. She bit her lip while she searched for Harry in the crowd, barely registering the way she threw her bag into the stands and took out her wand.

She hurried toward the two groups to see what was going on. Ginny Weasley stood toe-to-toe with a rather thick looking Slytherin player that Hermione couldn't recall the name of. Ginny looked furious.

"We booked the pitch for today!" she screamed at him, a gust of wind fanning her bright red hair around her face. It had a startling effect.

"What's going on here?" Hermione demanded.

The Slytherin cocked his head at her. He glanced warily at her Head Girl badge.

"The weasel here-"

Suddenly, everyone turned their heads, looking at a figure walking towards them in the snow. Hermione gasped, as did several others, because of the way he looked in that instant. Harry Potter, with his red and gold cloak blown out behind him majestically, his already brilliant eyes glittering in the winter light, and his face flushed from the cold weather. His unruly, raven colored hair tumbled from his head and bobbed just beneath his chin.

Harry was never ugly, but Hermione never dreamed of seeing him this way. Her heart pounded in her mouth in a moment of confusion and panic. She thought she tasted blood. But as soon as it began, it ended. As Harry strolled towards them, Malfoy appeared at his side. His blond hair was slicked back and was almost as colorless as the snow on the ground. It glittered silver. His likewise pale eyes glinted strangely, and his face was pinkened by the cold. In his own way, with his own cloak billowing around him, he looked just as good as Harry yet completely different.

The two teams immediately gathered around their respective captains and began roaring questions at them.

"Today," Harry said in a voice that commanded attention. "Malfoy and I thought we would have a practice game."

There was a stunned silence.

He continued, but now with a hint of awkwardness. "We both need the training time, and Gryffindor and Slytherin don't play each other for months. Er."

The two teams still watched him in silent astonishment.

"It seemed like a good idea to help each other out," he explained, as if in apology, and shrugged. His majestic appearance dimmed somewhat after that, Hermione noticed, strangely disappointed.

Everyone's heads swiveled towards Draco. He nodded, though he didn't seem pleased with the way his rival captain announced it. He only offered two sentences.

"Quidditch was almost taken away because the professors thought we couldn't handle it. Doing this can only prove them wrong and give us the right to a little more freedom in the pitch."

Draco's words broke the crowd out of their reverie. They all began to speak at once. Hermione honestly thought she had never him speak so maturely and intelligently.

"How the hell did this happen?" one Slytherin player yelled out. It was what they were all thinking.

The captains offered them no more explanation.

"It just did," Malfoy snarled at the Slytherin sharply.

Hermione tentatively put her wand away and walked back to the stands to watch. It was odd. Harry hadn't told her about any duo team practices. What was even odder was the obvious partnership between Harry and Malfoy. It made her nervous.

Though the childish rivalries were gone, they weren't so far into the past to be easily forgotten. After Ron's death there was a period of time when Harry didn't have the enthusiasm for anything or anybody beside himself and Hermione. After that, he grew dangerously energetic and social. He and Malfoy had the worse fights during those days.

Then one day they were caught.

They were punished, supposedly with detentions. Since then the fights and arguments stopped abruptly and they were nearly civil to one another. What happened during that detention, Hermione never found out, but it was effective. Unarguably so.

She sat back, and though she knew the practice would be long, she placed her bag down and watched.


	3. A Warning

**Disclaimer: _I do not own Harry Potter._**

**Three Decembers**

_**By Emerald Riddle**_

**2006**

**Part III: A Warning**

* * *

"Granger."

Hermione knew who the voice belonged to before she even turned around. She rose her eyebrows.

"Malfoy."

He gave her his usual superior smirk. She knew he had the advantage of surprise, but what they were competing for, she had yet to guess. Malfoy circled her, reminding her of a hungry cat preparing to pounce on its prey. It reminded her of Crookshanks and Scabbers.

_Well,_ Hermione thought to herself, _I am no prey._

She gave him a pointed glance and secretly slipped her wand out of her cloak pocket.

"Is there something you want, Malfoy?"

Malfoy ignored her question and merely gave her another smirk with an addition of a single raised eyebrow.

"I don't think you should be chasing what is too good for you, Granger," he told her calmly. It was if they were discussing the weather.

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked, puzzled and becoming irritated.

He moved closer to her and the atmosphere suddenly shifted to something a little more dangerous. Malfoy looked the same as he always did, if not a little more civil, so why did he suddenly look so malicious to her? Malfoy was altogether too close to her. So close, in fact, that even with her wand Hermione was nervous.

She could smell his cologne. It was distinct and obviously expensive. She could feel his warm even breaths touch her skin in the cold of the afternoon. Malfoy was so impossibly near that she yearned to take a step back from the sudden unfamiliarity, of his complete violation of her personal space.

As soon as she got her body alert enough to move, he came yet closer. The next moment his lips were by her ear, so near that she felt his lips brush against her. He had her against the wall outside of the locker rooms and his wand was shoved underneath her chin. So surprised at his sudden movement, she did something very unlike herself, and dropped her wand.

Hermione never in her life felt so vulnerable, so completely and utterly helpless. For one of the few times in her life, Draco Malfoy had the best of her. Their bodies were perfectly aligned and if anybody were to pass-

_Harry!_ Hermione thought wildly.

-they would have thought the two were lovers.

Yet, there was nothing at all loveable about the painful way Malfoy held her, or the way his lips moved as he spoke in a mockery of a seductive whisper.

"Potter is mine, mudblood."

Hermione opened her mouth in shock and was about to exclaim when he banged her roughly against the wall and into silence. The only thing to escape her lips was a cry of pain. His hips pinned her own from any possible escape.

"Keep the fuck away from him if you know what's good for you. Understand?"

Hermione understood no such thing, but nodded so he would let go and she could curse him to oblivion. Malfoy didn't let go right away, however. He shifted his hips so his thigh was between her legs and rubbed it against her panty clad crotch. Hermione gave a shuddering gasp and Malfoy released some of his hold and began to kiss her neck and allow his hands to roam his body.

"This is all you mudbloods are good for," he told her in a husky whisper.

Hermione snapped. She regained her bearings and with strength she didn't know she possessed, shoved him off of her. Before he was propelled away from her body, she felt his teeth sink into her neck.

Draco gave her another superior smirk. Hermione was trembling in shock and indignation. Her wand was completely forgotten. She slapped him full force in the face and was satisfied to hear the loud **_"Crack!" _**it made. He stumbled backwards.

With a pinkened face from lust and fury, Malfoy narrowed his eyes until they were glittering grey slits on his face. "You'd best watch your step from now on, Granger."

Any reply of hers was never heard because at that moment, Harry walked out of Gryffindor locker room. Hermione's heart was like a trapped bird in a cage; it beat maniacally. She had no idea what to say.

As it turns out, she needn't say a word.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry greeted. "Malfoy and I are going to the library to discuss some strategies. Want to come?"

Hermione's mouth went dry. She shook her head.

"What about dinner?" she croaked.

Harry gave her a concerned glance. "We'll just go to the kitchens later. Are you all right?"

She nodded mechanically. She yearned to say something to Harry, but with Malfoy standing right next to her, she couldn't sum up the courage Gryffindors were famous for.

"I might be late," Harry told her. "Don't wait up. If you need me, you know how to find me."

He began to walk away with Draco at his side. Hermione watched them until they disappeared, feeling more helpless and alone than she had in a very long time. Something rolled next to her black school loafers. Her wand lay abandoned next to her feet. Feeling more desolate by the moment, she picked it up and wandered back into the castle.


	4. Secrets

**Disclaimer: _I do not own Harry Potter._**

**Three Decembers**

_**By Emerald Riddle**_

_**2006**_

**Part IV: Secrets**

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Harry wandered from the library, feeling distracted and uneasy. He hadn't liked the way Hermione and Malfoy were alone outside of the locker room. He hadn't liked the panicked look on Hermione's face. When he made a reference to it to Malfoy as they studied tactics laboriously together, the other boy only said that it was very uncomfortable trying to make up a conversation with a "know-it-all mudblood". Harry had started an argument over this, but Malfoy backed down fairly quickly. He didn't apologize, however. Harry didn't think he ever did.

It was strange, how the acquaintance built itself. From going head to head almost daily to being nearly civil to one another in less than a year was somewhat awkward for Harry. It all started with the detention… Harry shivered slightly. He didn't want to think about it now. It was in the past. Buried. Forgotten.

_Hopefully…_ Harry thought uneasily.

His footsteps in the empty hall brought him to think about how alone he was. Not only in the corridor, but in his life. The shadows danced around his body and enveloped him in their suffocating arms. It almost reminded him of Molly Weasley. Harry's finger twitched, thinking of his dead friend's mother. How she could have possibly forgiven him for leading Ron to his death, he never understood. Sometimes he imagined that she secretly despised him; resented him for living when her son died. Ron could have been alive then. If he had not left. If he had not fought to protect Harry. He could be the one walking this lonely hall and making "nice" with Draco Malfoy.

Harry snorted, even though his throat burned in the warning of oncoming tears. He clenched his hand and shook his shaggy head. When he did this he almost believed the thoughts were knocked into the back of his skull; covered with other scattered things that decorated his brain. He automatically reached for his scar. It was smooth and warm underneath his clammy hands.

_Voldemort._

Harry shook his head again. The thought faded almost as quickly as it came. Still distracted, he slipped his fingers through his knotted, messy hair.

_James. His dad. James ruffling his own hair and making it even messier. _

_Sirius. Sirius messing up Harry's hair, hugging him, looking pleased and proud of his godson._

_Ron. Ron after his big win in fifth year, looking almost like James as he smiled and swept his fingers though his hair._

_Ron. Frustrated._

_Ron. Embarrassed._

_Ron. Bored_

Harry yanked his hands out of his hair and closed his eyes. Why did everything have to remind him of his failures? Soon he was at his destination, without even realizing he was headed there. Before him was a long stretch of stone wall. One brick was slightly discolored and stained. It was almost unnoticeable, which is what Harry had intended. He tapped the stone right above it, using it as a landmark.

"_Protraho."_

The stone wall melted back, revealing a lonely looking door. Harry smiled in accomplishment at the memory of when he first found the perfect room, and disguised it perfectly in his opinion. It was foolproof, and secretive. Definitely secretive.

There was no doorknob on the door, just a rather large key hole. Harry smiled again, beginning to feel a little cocky. He slid his wand tip into the key hole.

"_Lumos_."

The tip of the wand lit up and the doorknob appeared. He didn't bother to touch it.

"_Adaperio_," Harry whispered.

The door flew open at once, banging against the wall as it did. Harry flinched.

_I really do need to fix that problem…_

It wasn't that Harry was paranoid or overly cautious, but it seemed in the best interest of everyone to make sure the door was as secure and as tricky to open as possible. The only way to get into Harry's room was to go through the spell process precisely, after finding the right stone, of course. To top it all, Harry found the most least known and unexpected spells for it. If there was anything he was ever truly proud of, it was spelling that single door.

He did it all by himself, without any luck or help.

Something nagged at the back of his mind though. He couldn't believe it was truly safe yet.

_Maybe I'll add a password to the door…_ Harry thought to himself as he stepped through the threshold. It seemed like an intelligent idea, and he was very satisfied with it.

Harry glanced back as he closed the door behind him. Hermione would be most proud of him if she knew all the trouble and research he went through to get it. He looked around the room for a minute and suddenly frowned.

Hermione definitely wouldn't be proud of him if she knew what he was doing in it.

Though much work was done to the old classroom during the months that Harry visited it, it still had not attained the look of being used. The only clues anywhere were the footprints in the thick dust on the floor and the only corner of the room that was somewhat clean. On the rickety teacher's desk in the front of the room held a compact pewter cauldron. Knives and various instruments lay around it hazardously, shining faintly from the moonlight filtering through the windows. Harry went behind the desk and opened some of the drawers. Inside them held plants, vials, and several different types of potions ingredients.

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A/N: This is merely a work in progress (WiP) and I would like it if any reviewers would point out any errors or inconsistencies that they see. Don't be shy. I don't have a beta and really need the help! 


	5. Complications

**Disclaimer: _I do not own Harry Potter._**

**Three Decembers**

_**By Emerald Riddle**_

_**2006**_

**Part V: Complications**

* * *

"Valerian roots," Harry whispered to himself.

He was almost in a frenzy as he chopped them up and put them into his cauldron. He counted three clockwise stirs, and two counterclockwise. The steam of the potion came up to meet his already sweaty face. Harry wiped his forehead with a dirty cloth, leaving a black streak unknown to him across his scar.

"Moonstone."

Harry dropped it in and stirred two more times counterclockwise. His previously brown potion changed to a silvery-grey color. More steam rose around his head, making him feel as if he just entered a sauna. Knowing what even a drop of sweat could do to a potion, he constantly wiped his face with the dirty rag, not caring that it smelled of old fish.

A vial of bundimum secretion was poured into the rippling surface, changing it a shocking color of yellow for a moment before it mellowed out.

"Sopohorous beans, whole."

Harry cradled a handful of the beans in his palms and counted out the amount he needed. After he had them in the cauldron the potion transformed from its pale yellow color to a hot pink. He stirred until it darkened to a purple and wiped his sweaty face on his sleeve. The room was growing steadily hotter, and Harry gasped for air even as he searched the desk for the next ingredient.

Belladonna, aconite, flobberworm mucus (to thicken), and hellebore.

As he added the last of the hellebore, Harry smiled lazily and searched for the last (and incidentally, his favorite) ingredient.

It wasn't there.

His breath caught in his throat. Several times, his eyes jumped from item to item, scanning the entire desktop. The mallowsweet was nowhere to be found.

_I know I bought it. I'm sure I had it in my hands. I know I bought it. I must have! _Harry's thoughts flashed passed his eyes like lightening as he searched the drawers of the desk impatiently.

Seeing the mallowsweet in the last drawer at the right, Harry felt like he had a breath of fresh air after drinking in polluted oxygen all of his life. It was beautiful, and excitement thrummed through his body in steady pulses. After picking the right amount, he slammed the drawer closed again in victory. Harry turned towards the cauldron again, took a step closer to it, and felt resistance on his arm. Without looking back, Harry tugged and heard a loud ripping sound.

A distant part of Harry's mind told him he got his sleeve caught in the drawer. He didn't care. He only cared about getting the mallowsweet into the cauldron. All he cared about was completing the potion.

Once he added the mallowsweet, the potion changed to a milky white. It was the sign of his success. Harry bent his sweaty face over the cauldron and breathed in the vapors deeply. The first time he had tried this it was overwhelming. He had keeled back and coughed until his throat was dry and sore. After time, patience, and much practice, however, Harry had soon gotten to inhaling the clouds as if it were an art.

He inhaled. Slowly taking in the magical smoke into his lungs and building to something much faster. His mouth opened, letting it seep in slowly. The world tilted underneath his feet and Harry clutched the desk for balance. His brain was spinning in his skull and sweat dripped down his cheeks like tears. They fell, one by one, into the milky white substance, as they always did. As always, Harry did not notice. If he did he would have realized sweat didn't to a thing to this particular potion.

Happiness spread through his heart like an expanding balloon. A childish smile flitted across his features. He was flying. The sensation of soaring, of eating sweets, of playing a game of exploding snap with Hermione and Ron, the sensation of laughing with them… The sensation of being carefree and happy. The sensation of having no guilt. The sensation of bliss was his at that moment. Everything was forgotten as he treaded the steps to ignorance as the potion slowly evaporated from the cauldron and into vapor. Into Harry.

Everything spun. Harry giggled and fell to the floor. His eyes began to close. He began to sleep.

Sleep was muddled and confusing for Harry that night. He knew he had to wake up, but awareness seemed to always be an inch too many from his fingertips. He was underwater, but he could breathe. His head still spun, he still reached, but sleep kept him under for many hours after that. He gave up and let the wave sweep him away. Everything would be all right. Everything would be okay.

It was cold. So cold. Light was hitting him in the face, making Harry see orange while he kept his eyes closed. It was hard to wake up; so hard. Harry finally forced open his eyes. The light struck him like a blow and suddenly everything came into focus: including the pounding pain behind his eyes.

Harry moved to a kneeling position, and promptly threw up his dinner. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. He gasped for air. Everything hurt. Everything felt wrong. The air around him was too cold, but he felt too hot. Sweat coated his body and made the clothes he wore the day before stick to his skin.

Harry moaned in pain and fell back onto the floor, shivering and needing to get out of his clothes at the same time.

_What's wrong with me? What happened last night? _He strained to remember.

There was no better explanation than some sort of hang over, but that was strange. He never had one this bad before… Harry strained to remember what he did last night, then an idea lit up his head.

_I must have taken too much,_ Harry thought, turning towards the cauldron. _I wasn't paying attention. I must have inhaled too much._

As a particularly bad pain erupted, Harry swore to himself, _never that much again._

_I could have really been hurt_, he mused.

Feeling a little more awake than previously, Harry slowly put away all of his potions ingredients and tried to fix himself to the best of his ability. Checking his watch, he was startled to see it was about seven a.m.

_Damn it._

He wasn't prepared to spend the night. He had no clothes, no books, not even an invisibility cloak. Harry sighed and made his way outside. There was no one in the hall. Harry practically ran around the corner to the stairways. He knew a pretty good shortcut to the Gryffindor common room behind a portrait on the second floor. As he ran with thoughts of victory in his head, he slammed straight into another student.

All this movement wasn't helping his head much, which he cradled in a bout of fresh pain.

"Potter?"

There was no way of recognizing the voice with the steady pulsing in his temples. He wished the person would just shut up and go away. Instead they knelt by his side.

"Are you okay? Potter?"

Harry could barely register the voice.

_This is no ordinary hangover._

The person next to him put a steady hand on his shoulder, and pried his fingers away from his head.

"Look at me."

Harry opened his eyes. Draco Malfoy was giving him a very strange look indeed. He couldn't quite figure out what it meant. Malfoy tilted his chin up with one slender finger.

"Now, listen to me."

Harry blinked blearily.

"Are you all right?"

"I- I think so."

Harry's throat was dry, and his voice cracked as he spoke.

"Is there anything dangerous that caused this? Anything that could hurt me or you, or anyone else?"

Harry shook his head, feeling more than a little confused.

Draco gave him a hard look. "Then I don't want or need to know."

Harry's eyes widened and Malfoy tilted his head a bit higher.

"Did you sleep last night?"

Harry nodded.

"I don't believe you," Malfoy said, and suddenly tightened his grip on Harry's chin.

As quick as lightening, Malfoy had his lips on Harry's and was kissing him. Harry, out of his mind in confusion, found himself kissing back. Malfoy tasted like toothpaste and Harry found that he liked the taste a lot more than he thought he would.

As fast as it began, it ended. Malfoy licked his bottom lip.

"You weren't lying. The only way to get that kind of morning breath is a full night's sleep and a lot of alcohol," he told him, raising one eyebrow in challenge.

"I didn't drink any alcohol…" Harry replied, even more dazed than he was before.

"Then I feel bad for your dorm mates. Go wash up, Potter," Malfoy's voice was suddenly cold. "I'm sure your little lover can wait until then. Who is she?" He asked.

He swooped down on Harry.

"Or is it a he? It isn't a Slytherin, is it? I would have known."

Harry blinked up at him. "You're bloody crazy, Malfoy. I don't know what you're talking about."

Malfoy sneered at him. "Sure you don't."

Suddenly he turned on his heel and stomped away.

Harry watched him go, feeling as if his life just got a lot more complicated.

_What the hell is going on?_

* * *

Author's Notes: This story isn't coming out as well-written as I first intended it to. Then again, I'm in a frenzy of trying to get it finished before I lose interest or before I have no more time. So, I'm asking all of my reviewers for a favor! Will you please, if you can, point out any mistakes or anything you don't like? I take crit well, and I promise not to hate you for it. I'll be searching for a beta when this is done. If you're interested, please say so in a review or contact me.


	6. Plots And Vows

**Disclaimer: _I do not own Harry Potter._**

**Three Decembers**

_**By Emerald Riddle**_

_**2006**_

**Part VI: Plots and Vows**

* * *

Draco Malfoy stomped towards the Great Hall. He was furious, absolutely furious.

He had been chasing Potter ever since the first day of school (though he didn't notice it until years later), wanting his attention, wanting his admiration. Yet, the only thing Potter ever looked at him with was hate. So, he had tried to hate back. He had tried not to care.

It never worked. The Weasel and the mudblood were always there, poisoning Potter's mind against Draco. Then the Weasel died, and Draco did care a bit. A small bit. He let himself admit Weasley was a good quidditch and chess player. He let himself admit Weasley had been pretty loyal to Potter. Hell, he even admitted that Weasley had a nice arse.

He forced himself to try and play nice, even though it wasn't his style.

Draco sat down at the Slytherin table, still thinking.

The detention half-forced it. His face pinkened just thinking about it. There was nothing more humiliating to him than that night. Yet, now, just when he thought everything was getting better. Just when he thought he had a shot, he sees Potter walking through the corridors like he just had a night of mind blowing sex. His hair was more mussed than usual, his face was smudged with what looked like dark make-up (_I never knew Potter liked them goth_, Draco thought), and there were bruises under his eyes from an obvious lack of sleep.

Draco had wanted him desperately, even then. He couldn't hold back a kiss, even if he told himself it was honestly to just tell whether he slept the night before. Whether he drank. To get close enough to see if he smelled like anyone Draco knew.

No. Potter had horrendous morning breath, though not a hint of alcohol. He had no smell of anyone Draco knew, but he did smell strange. As if he was wearing some kind of weird perfume. It smelled familiar, but he couldn't quite figure out where he smelled it before.

_I know he was with someone. What the bloody hell would be doing out all night in the castle, if he wasn't having sex?_

Draco was a bit of a one minded creature in cases like these.

Jealousy surged through him. It wasn't the Granger girl, at least he knew that. Potter was trying to get back up to the common room, not coming from it. Draco looked up from his plate when he heard the Great Hall's doors open. Granger walked in looking harassed.

Draco tilted his head thoughtfully as he considered her. He knew she wanted Potter, and now she knew he wanted him as well. Truth be told, Draco was slightly attracted to her as well. Ever since seeing her looking so elegant at the Yule Ball, he had been interested in seeing how she was in bed. A prude, some said. However, something told him that they were wrong. Very wrong.

True, she was a mudblood, but Draco could forget that for one night.

_Maybe she can help me figure out who Potter is interested in. She is his best friend, and she's supposed to be smart._

Draco took a bite out of his toast.

_Let's just see how smart the little tart is._

Potter walked in a little after her. He was freshly cleaned and clothed, all traces of the night out he had gone. He looked drawn in and tired. Draco studied him a bit. Potter tried his best to stay as far away as possible from Granger. As breakfast wore on, he only played with his food, and didn't really notice anyone else around him.

_He probably misses his goth sex bunny, _Draco thought bitterly, and found he couldn't eat anymore.

Instead, he glanced at the head table. The headmaster was in animated conversation with Professor Flitwick, and nobody seemed to notice how strange the boy wonder was acting. Except for one. Professor Snape had his eyes trained on Potter, watching his every movement like a hawk.

Draco wondered what Snape was thinking. Whatever it was, it was probably right. The man read people like a book. Here he was, staring at Potter, whom he didn't even like. There was definitely something going on.

A small hand grabbed Draco's. Pansy Parkinson had taken the seat next to him. She smiled at him, and tilted her head up for an expected kiss. Draco didn't disappoint her. Pansy was a nice thing to have around if he wasn't expecting to hook up with anyone else. He cheated on her numerous times, but she never found out, and he didn't much care if she did. He was expected to marry her by both their parents and by the entire school, and hell, if he didn't have any better prospects, why not? Did it truly matter who he married? It was all for status and money. He could always have a few nice pieces of arse on the side.

Potter got up and left the table. Granger tried to follow him out, but Draco was already on her tail. He caught her arm outside in the Entrance Hall.

"Granger."

She looked venomous.

"Don't you dare _ever_ touch me again, Malfoy!" she screamed at him.

He dropped his arm. Touchy.

"Look, I'm sorry about last night. I wanted to explain."

It took all his acting skills in the world to pretend to actually care about what happened last night. He needed her now, though, and he was going to get to Potter one way or another through her.

Granger crossed her arms across her chest.

_A rather small chest, _Draco thought blandly.

"Well?" she asked.

"I can't talk about it here. Let's go outside," he told her.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Watch," he commanded her, getting irritated. "Here's my wand, see?"

He took it out, showed it to her, and gave it to her.

She took it slowly.

It took all his willpower to give her his wand, but he needed her trust, and giving up a wand unprovoked was a universal way of earning it. Besides, even if she hated him, Granger played fair. Everyone knew that.

She followed him out to the lake.

"I don't have much time, Malfoy. Class starts in half an hour."

Draco rolled his eyes.

"I only need a few minutes of your time," he explained.

She watched him. Waiting.

"Okay, about yesterday… I'm, uh, sorry. You see, I know you fancy Potter and I was a bit, uh, jealous."

Draco's acting skills were not at his best. He was not good at acting nice.

"Okay, Granger, I'm madly in love with Potter. Happy?"

She stared at him. "What? No. Since when were you gay?"

He exhaled angrily. "Not that it's any of your business, but I am not gay. I don't see a person's gender, I see them."

Granger looked a little impressed. Though, that didn't last long.

"Then why can't you see beyond a person's blood or status?" she asked him, seeming honestly curious.

Draco rose an eyebrow. "Please, I am sexually free. I am not a savage."

"And here I was thinking that you might have a chance at being a feeling human being. Apparently not."

"My 'preferences' are not the point of this conversation, Granger! I just asked you out here for your help!"

"My help?"

"Well, not your 'help' per say… But rather your, alliance."

Granger sat on a giant rock facing the lake. Her legs were crossed, and the winter winds tossed her frizzy hair about. Whenever she wasn't speaking to Draco, she looked out towards the frozen lake. Her mind seemed far away.

_This isn't going to work this way. I need to make her able to stand me somewhat. I need her to be able to work with me. Maybe I can even get her in bed… _Draco stopped his mind from being taken away by his hormones. Lusty images could be saved for later.

"Okay, Granger," he said softly, he sat down next to her. "I know you want Potter, even if you may deny it. I want him, too, but neither of us are going to get a shot at him if he's always attached to somebody else."

Granger didn't deny that she wanted him, she just examined Draco in interest.

"I don't like you, Malfoy," she told him point blank. "I don't like you and I don't trust you. Frankly I think you're a rich little brat with too much time on his hands. So why should I even pretend to trust anything your deceitful little mouth says?"

"You shouldn't, and I don't care if you do or don't. I sure as bloody hell don't trust you. All I want is your cooperation. Potter is fucking someone in this school, and I want to find out who it is."

"What!" Granger exclaimed. "Harry isn't having sex with anyone! I would have known! He would have told me!"

Draco made eye contact with her. "Potter is having sex with somebody in this school. I saw him just this morning, smelling like perfume and smudged with make-up."

Hermione bit her lip. "I sort of thought he smelled like fish."

He gave her a bored look. "Maybe he's having an affair with the giant squid."

Granger stifled a laugh and quickly turned it into a cough.

_Really, _Draco thought. _Is it so bad to even laugh at one of my jokes?_

"No, Granger. Not fish. It was another smell. A misty smell. It was light and… I can't really explain it all that well. It smelled familiar, however. I know I smelled it on someone before." Draco leaned towards her, as if to whisper in her ear. She flinched away from him a little. He smirked.

"Help me find out who Potter is dating, Granger. When it's time for him to choose between us, and if he happens to choose you, I'll disappear. I won't chase him anymore. I won't even speak to either of you anymore," he vowed.

"And what if he chooses you?" She asked, narrowing her eyes at him. "How can I even take your word?"

He thought for a moment. "If he chooses me, then you will distance yourself from him. You will support us in our relationship, and you will mind your own bloody business for once. Maybe you can go off with the Weasley girl," he shrugged.

Hermione gaped at him. "I'll let you know, I am perfectly straight!"

Draco smiled at her. "Yep, straight as your hair."

She didn't answer, simply glared.

"We're all bisexual on the inside, Granger," Draco told her, smirking again.

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy. Class starts soon. Now tell me, how can I believe you at all? You never gave me any reason to trust you."

Draco glanced at his wand, which Hermione held loosely between her fingers. She had a lot of issues on trust.

_Why the hell can't she be a good little mudblood and do what the pureblood wizard says?_

"There's one way we can do this so that trust doesn't matter," he told her thoughtfully.

"How is that?" she asked, staring out at the lake again.

"An Unbreakable Vow."

Granger gasped and dropped his wand into her lap. Draco winced.

"You can't be serious," she whispered.

"I am serious. Meet me at the Room of Requirement at midnight. I assume you know where that is?"

She nodded, and Draco walked her back to the school, thinking.

* * *

A/N: Hello, all. Some people reviewed saying that they were confused. I hope this clears some things up, and if you're still confused, keep in mind that some things are meant to be confusing until they are resolved later on in the story. You're not going to get everything up front here. Where's the fun in that? Also, it would help if you told me what you were confused about, because different people will be unsure about different things. Okay, now that that's over with, please review and crit! I'm not asking for encouragement as much as I'm asking for honestly and corrections! 

Remember: Reviews feed my muse!


	7. Hermione's Furry Spy

**Disclaimer: _I do not own Harry Potter._**

**Three Decembers**

_**By Emerald Riddle**_

_**2006**_

**Part VII: Hermione's Furry Spy**

* * *

"How did I get myself into this, Crookshanks?" Hermione Granger asked her ginger cat.

Crookshanks simply glanced at her and twitched his tail.

She went on. "An Unbreakable Vow. How is dating anyone worth a life or death promise? Why did I even _agree_ to it?"

He cocked his head to the side and watched her with his wide green eyes. Hermione sighed and scratched him behind his ear. Crookshanks purred contentedly.

"What's wrong with Malfoy?" she asked. "Has he had feelings for Harry all these years, like he said? Or is he trying to trap him and get him killed? I need to know before I make that Vow. I need to know _something_."

Hermione locked eyes with Crookshanks.

"You're a very smart cat, Crookshanks. You've helped me and Harry before."

Crookshanks purred.

"Do you think you could help us now?"

He cocked his head at her as if to ask "Why?"

It was hard, admitting it to herself.

"I do have feelings for Harry…" she told her cat, sighing. "I really wish I didn't. It makes everything so much harder. It makes me feel like I'm betraying Ron somehow… I want to see if there's a future for us, Crookshanks. If Malfoy really does fancy Harry, then I don't want to lose Harry to him. Anyone else but him. He'll just hurt Harry in the end. He'll hurt our friendship."

If cats could smile, Hermione would have sworn Crookshanks was giving her a sly grin at that moment.

"Do me this favor, please." She scratched him under his chin and was rewarded with a soft mew.

"Follow Malfoy. Smell him. Figure out his intentions toward Harry. I'm not entirely sure of how this is going to help me yet, but I'm sure it will."

Crookshanks got to his feet, stretched, and leapt off of Hermione's four poster bed. She watched the bandy-legged cat waddle towards the common room.

"Good kitty. Now I just need a bonder to bring along with me," Hermione said, wondering who on earth would agree to something like that.

Hermione bit her lip suddenly. "This is so unlike me. Am I being foolish, Crookshanks?"

But Crookshanks was already gone.

* * *

**A/N: I haven't been on online since, get this, since late August. Well, I've still been writing and I have a few more chapters prewritten to give you guys. Remember, reviews feed my muse!**


	8. Watching You

**Disclaimer: _I do not own Harry Potter._**

**Three Decembers**

_**By Emerald Riddle**_

_**2006**_

**Part VIII: Watching You**

It was right after lunch that Draco got the strange feeling that someone was following him. This was most peculiar because _he_ just so happened to be following someone. Harry Potter was sitting out in the Quidditch stands alone, doing something Draco couldn't quite see. For once, he was not horribly curious. Most likely, Harry just wanted to get away and do some homework without Hermione Granger watching over his shoulder.

Draco moved closer, trying to discern Harry's face underneath his wild hair. It was hopeless. He made an irritated noise in his throat and ducked under the stands. Draco ran quickly and silently, much like a cat, until he stood directly underneath where Harry was sitting. The feeling that somebody was watching him did not cease, but he could see no one, so he just shrugged it off as paranoia.

Besides, he could already smell Potter. The scent of soap and grass and something else that was just so impossibly Harry that he could not describe it. The few times they were ever really close was when they argued, and Draco would argue all day just to smell his skin and see all the passion fly up to his face to make it red.

"I can't believe I really kissed him," he mouthed, touching the curve of his lip with one of his fingers.

Suddenly, his heart started to race. He _kissed _him. How he had longed to do that for so many years! Harry Potter let Draco Malfoy _kiss_ him!

Draco watched the boy above him. He needed to bend his knees slightly so his head didn't hit the wooden planks.

"What else would you have let me do?" he wondered in an almost voiceless whisper.

He touched the plank of wood above his head gently. Sadness started eating at his gut, but he shoved it away.

"You will be mine."

Draco wanted him. He wanted him _so badly. _ The pain was almost overwhelming. Like an emotional crucio.Things stood in his way, so many things... but he was a Slytherin. Slytherins always get what they want in the end.

Harry shifted in his seat, flicking a lock of hair away from his eyes. His lips were pale and pink and dry. Harry slid his tongue over them. Draco's eyes blazed as he watched him, knowing Granger had watched Potter do the same thing so many times. She could watch such a moment whenever she pleased. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all.

"You. Are. Mine," he told Harry, knowing the other boy could not hear him.

Draco wondered what he would do if he did. He inhaled the loveliness of Harry's scent one last time, finally finding a word that fit it. Warmth. Harry smelled of warmth. He smelled of comfort. He smelled of security. Love. He smelled of love.

Draco sighed as he started to leave.

"I must be getting soft in the head," he said to himself, a little too loudly.

"Who is that?" someone yelled from the stands.

"Fuck," Draco muttered. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Come out!" Harry commanded.

Draco didn't know what to do. He couldn't let himself be seen. What would Potter think? That Draco was spying on him, that he was setting up a trap for him, or worse, that he was just watching him for no real reason other than his own pleasure (which he was).

"I'll give you to the count of three to come out, if you don't, then I'll go down there and curse you."

_No, I don't want to fight with you anymore, Potter. Well. Not unless there's some hot make-up sex afterwards._

"One."

_Merlin, what am I going to do? Should I jump out and obliviate him?_

"Two. Come on, if this is just a joke, then come out. I don't want to hurt you. Especially if I don't have a reason to."

_I should just go out there and pretend I wasn't doing anything. I should. I should but I really, really don't want to. I want him to come down here. I want to throw him into the snow and kiss him and touch him and make him **mine-**_

"Three."

_I want him to know._

Draco forgot to breathe. He grabbed his wand and took a step back. From the corner of his eye, Draco saw something large and orange leap up onto the stands. Everything was silent for a moment, then for some reason Harry started laughing.

"You scared me, Crookshanks! I should stop coming out here alone. I'm starting to get a bit twitchy," Harry said as he scratched Crookshanks behind the ears.

Draco wondered whether he should leave while Potter was distracted. He needn't have dove so. Harry left a moment later, still chuckling, and followed by Hermione's cat. The Slytherin then sat in the snow, relieved and slightly saddened, and waited an entire half hour before moving.

_Yes._

Yes, Harry Potter definitely smelled of warmth.


	9. Nine Lives For The Curious

**Disclaimer: _I do not own Harry Potter._**

**Three Decembers**

_**By Emerald Riddle**_

_**2006**_

**Part IX: Nine Lives For The Curious**

* * *

Hermione sat in her dorm room nervously. She was wondering if Crookshanks was all right, and what he had found out, if anything. She still hadn't thought of any good witnesses to bring to the room of requirement. There was probably no true reason to. There was no way Draco Malfoy could be in love with Harry Potter! It was completely ludicrous! All Malfoy had ever been was cruel to him.

There was almost no doubt in Hermione's mind that Crookshanks would find something wrong in Malfoy's intentions. Then she could put a stop to all the insanity and work on her own feelings towards her best friend. She smiled to herself. It always worked out in the end. Malfoy would be pushed aside and punished for his actions, while she would rewarded and praised, and maybe… Maybe the attraction towards Harry would go away. Or… Maybe he would return it.

Deep down inside, it was what she wanted. She wanted to have Harry. It was almost destiny, in a way. They would be happy together. Draco and Harry together, however, would probably result in somebody's murder. Hopefully Draco's.

"Hermione!"

Somebody was calling her from the common room. Harry, most likely. He was the only one to ever do that. Pulling her frizzy hair back into a pony tail, she went down to meet him. Harry beamed at her as she walked down the staircase. Surprisingly, he was holding Crookshanks to his chest.

"Crookshanks," she said slowly, feeling both relieved and curious. Was he finished spying on Malfoy already?

"I found him out on the Quidditch stands. Scared me out of my mind, he did. I thought I should return him to you." Harry smiled at her.

_He has such a sweet, crooked smile._

Hermione felt her face flush.

"Oh, um, thank you. Listen. Harry… I've got to tell you-"

Suddenly, Crookshanks meowed very loudly and scratched Harry's hand.

"Ow!" he yelled, releasing his hold on the large cat.

Crookshanks leapt from Harry's arms and ran up to Hermione, giving her one intense look with his green eyes. Then he disappeared up the spiral staircase leading to the girls' dorms.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, grabbing Harry's hand and examining it.

Droplets of blood fell out of four shallow cuts. Hermione took out her wand and used a spell on each cut. They disappeared instantly. Hermione took his hand again and carefully wiped the blood away.

"Hey! Where did you learn that?" Harry asked incredulously.

Hermione stared at him blankly.

"The spell! Where did you learn that spell?"

"We learned that charm _ages_ ago, Harry! Why don't you ever pay attention in class? It's very simple, really-"

"Oh, yeah. _That _spell. Didn't someone seal their eyes shut with it during class?" Harry said, chuckling.

"Harry…"

"I can still remember someone screaming that they were blind! Bumbling around the room and fell right into Parkinson's-"

"Harry!"

"What?" he asked, startled.

Hermione bit her lip. "Ron did that to Neville, remember?"

Harry looked shocked. "Oh."

"Yeah…" Hermione said softly.

"How did I for-"

"It doesn't matter now," she told him forcefully, because Harry was beginning to look like he betrayed Ron somehow.

There was an awkward silence.

"So what do you think is wrong with Crookshanks?" he asked her.

Hermione shrugged. She knew what Crookshanks wanted, though. He didn't want her to tell Harry anything about what was going on between her and Draco. Trusting her cat, Hermione decided to keep her mouth shut.

"Uh, Hermione?" Harry said.

Hermione lifted her head, thrown out of her thoughts.

"What?"

"You can, uh, let go of my hand now. I think all the blood is off."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, dropping his hand as if it was a poisonous insect.

Hermione felt her face heat up again. Had she been holding it during the entire conversation? Why didn't Harry say something sooner?

"Are _you _okay?" Harry asked. "You've been acting a bit off lately."

"Off?" Hermione echoed.

"Yeah. Did anything happen, you know, that night outside the locker rooms with Dr-Malfoy?"

Hermione was silent, her mind looking for a valid lie.

"Because," Harry continued, "if he said or did anything to you to hurt you, I'll take care of him. We don't need to coach our teams together. We've done without it before. Besides, I want to know that I can trust him not to attack me or my team. If he did anything, tell me now."

Hermione bit her lip. It was so tempting to tell him the truth. So tempting to get Malfoy out of their lives.

"Don't worry about me, Harry. If Malfoy does anything, I'll tell you. Lately, lately I just…" Her voice trailed off and she wished she would stop blushing already.

"I've been feeling odd. I think I'll go to Madame Promphrey. In a little while. After I see what's wrong with Crookshanks. So I'll- I'll see you later."

Hermione turned on her heel and walked quickly towards her dorm. Tears were stinging her eyes and her throat burned. She hated lying. She _hated _it. Especially when it was to Harry. They hadn't had such an awkward conversation in months, if not years.

_It's only Harry. It's only Harry. Why am I acting so strangely around him? He's my best friend! He's my…_

She bit down on her own lip to stop herself from screaming in frustration. It was confusing. So confusing. Why did she have to fancy her best friend? Why did Malfoy need to worm his way into their lives? Why did he have to make her _see_ it? Everything was fine before! Fine!

_Now everything is wrong… everything is so wrong… and all I can think about is how much I want him. I want him so much._

Soon she was crying. Crookshanks went up to her and laid on her lap as she sobbed. His presence was comforting and when she was done, he looked up at her and she knew he was sorry for everything she had to go through.

"Crookshanks, Malfoy really does love Harry, doesn't he?" she asked, still sniffling.

Crookshanks meowed.

"One meow for a little. Two meows for a lot."

Crookshanks meowed, twice, loudly.

"Oh, my God," Hermione whispered, and felt the tears fall down her face again.

_Does Malfoy always need to be in our lives, making a disturbance? What would Ron say? _

"He'd be furious," she said to Crookshanks. "At Malfoy, and at me. He was always so protective of Harry…"

Kept in Hermione's trunk was a photo album that she bought years ago in Diagon Alley. On the cover was a rather cheerful picture of her, Harry, and Ron waving at the camera. They were so young, only first years, and excited to see the new adventures that awaited them. Hermione let her finger trail over Ron's happy freckled face. He was downright adorable. Then there was Harry, with his large green eyes sparkling as he grinned. His eyes were so magnificent that they almost stole the spotlight completely. Both boys were the most important people in her life. No wonder whenever somebody asked her who she liked best, or who she'd rather date, she could never pick. Hermione wanted both, or neither.

_Yet now, I can't have both. Ron is gone and I only have Harry._

Watching Ron ruffle Harry's hair in the photo made Hermione wonder if one was enough.

"We used to be balanced. A friendship that had rough times, but always came back stronger than ever. Can Harry and I survive without Ron?" Hermione asked herself. They had made it this far intact, right?

_There's something missing. The laughter. The jokes. The blatant honesty. Something not too rough but not too smooth. Somewhere between Harry's instinct and my intelligence. Something that tied us together. Something that constantly made all of us tense, but could also settle us down. _

"What _is _it?"

_Something right. Something like a chemical reaction. The right potion ingredient that kept me and Harry from hating each other or becoming bored of each other all these years. Something that made us love each other's faults. Something that… Someone. _

"Ron. Ron, can we make it without you?"

_And if, if Harry was gone instead, would you and I have made it this far?_

It was confusing playing the game of what if and what did. What Hermione knew is what _is. _Her and Harry made it this far. Their friendship was closer than ever. Even so, it still felt as if there was a gaping hole in their daily routine. How close would they need to be to fill it in?

_Is this why I'm attracted to him? To forget Ron?_

"No," Hermione answered herself. "No."

She didn't want to forget Ron. Ever.

Crookshanks leapt onto her bed, mewing loudly.

"Yes, I know. I know this is all useless. I shouldn't be thinking about things that cannot be changed, but…"

_It's in my nature to be naturally curious._

Hermione stared at Crookshanks. Crookshanks stared at Hermione. The quote remained unspoken, except in Hermione's head.

_Curiosity killed the cat._

It was almost dinner time, and she still didn't have a witness to bring to the room of requirement.

"Well, Crookshanks," Hermione said in a sing-song voice, "it's a good thing cats have nine lives, eh?"

Crookshanks purred.


	10. Sneaking Off Again

-1**Disclaimer: _I do not own Harry Potter._**

**Three Decembers**

_**By Emerald Riddle**_

_**2006**_

**Part X: Sneaking Off Again**

Dinner time was a strenuous affair. Only, Harry had no idea why it was so. Hermione seemed to be on some kind of emotional swing. One moment she was euphorically happy, the next she seemed to be sitting on the edge of her seat, taut with nerves. It did not escape Harry's notice that her eyes were frequently wandering over to the Slytherin table as she ate, either. He refrained from asking her what was wrong. He danced this tango with Hermione before, and he knew the steps by now.

She would reveal everything when she thought that the time was right. It bothered him immensely that she would still hide _anything _from him, but he trusted her. If there was something between her and Malfoy, he would monitor it, but he wouldn't pry unless necessary.

Harry was feeling the urge to go back to his room. Class was getting harder and harder by the day and the teachers kept piling on homework as if everybody dedicated time to their studies like Hermione and the Ravenclaws. It was a bad solution to a problem, Harry knew, but when he was in that room he had the best ideas. When he was in that room he felt completely at ease with the world.

There was that kiss. That kiss with Malfoy that threw him off. Was it a mistake? Was Malfoy gay?

_No,_ Harry thought. _The real question is why I liked it so much. _

The kiss felt so good. When Harry was feeling so horrible, so low and dirty, that kiss made him feel like somebody cared about him for a few seconds. It brought him up a little, even if it confused the bloody hell out of him.

_That could've have been the point of it all, _he reminded himself. _To confuse me and set up a trap._

It sure did not feel that way, though.

Harry did not feel as hungry as he thought he might, so he pushed around the food on his plate and watched Hermione out of the corner of his eye. When he was certain she or anyone else was not watching him, he quietly slipped away.

_I should be doing my homework. I should be studying. I should not be going back again after such a horrid hangover… _

There was a pull bringing Harry forward even as his thoughts were against his every movement. He wanted to feel good, and this is one of the few ways he knew how to anymore. All it felt like he had sometimes was the potion he blended specifically for himself. He found the potion in a book in the library and decided to try making it. When he did, he started learning bit-by-bit more and more about potions as he tried experimenting on himself. Now he thought he had almost perfected his little concoction. What Harry wanted to start trying was a few different ways he could use it. Ways that he did not always have to go back to the room and remake the potion again and again. A few ideas had crossed his mind, to say the least, and tonight was the night he intended to put them to the test.

As Harry walked into his room again, the room he was so proud of, he wondered why the door closing behind him always sounded so menacing. Deciding to ignore it, he took out a few potions books from a shelf on the wall and started to plan.

The sun woke Harry up for the second night in a row. Only this time he had no hangover to recover from. The thing that kept him up was studying. Studying, testing, creating, and writing. Harry wanted to think Hermione would be proud, but he knew that it was the last thing she would be. Mostly, it would just reaffirm her belief that Harry was smart only when he "wanted to be". Well, yeah, Harry was a lot of things when he wanted to be. Tonight he was a thief, stealing ingredients. He was a researcher, reading his way through piles of books. He was also a scientist, conducting experiments.

Harry was a potions master, who has just created something he himself deemed as genius.

Brushing dust off of his robes, he hurriedly started shoving various things in drawers. The only thing he didn't hide or put away was a jar. About the size of a mug, with a wide mouth and filled with liquid. Harry had not perfected anything in one night (people rarely did), but he accomplished a lot more than he ever dreamed he would. A lot of it existed mainly in his head, yet isn't that just as important as actually having the finished product in his hands? A few more nights and Harry would be on the road to happiness, he just knew it.

Shrinking the jar so it fit comfortably in his pocket, Harry turned and checked the room one last time. It looked properly untouched. He smirked and left.


	11. The Unbreakable Vow

**Disclaimer: _I do not own Harry Potter._**

**Three Decembers**

_**By Emerald Riddle**_

_**2006**_

**Part XI: The Unbreakable Vow**

_Metaphor for the mystic moment  
Pull me in to your perfect circle_

One womb  
One shape  
One resolve

Liberate this will  
To release us all

Orestes by A Perfect Circle

* * *

Hermione had no idea where Harry was. He disappeared in the middle of dinner and didn't say a single word to her about where he would be. Not that that was unusual. Lately, he had been disappearing more and more with every week.

_Still, _she thought,_ a word of warning would be nice now and again. He's acting as if he's hiding something._

Knowing Harry, he probably was. Hermione kept her thoughts occupied as she approached the room of requirement so she wouldn't worry; so she would not panic. She was one to always follow the rules and she was pretty certain that an Unbreakable Vow was against school policy in more ways than one. Harry was worth one, Hermione assured herself. Harry was always worth breaking a few rules for. Besides… Malfoy could not win. She would not lose Harry to him.

"You came," Malfoy said, reclining in a squashy armchair.

The room looked strikingly like the Gryffindor common room.

"I'm not sure I like the changes," he told her. "When I came in it looked like the Slytherin common room. We have far more decorating sense, I'm afraid."

Hermione frowned.

"I didn't bring a bonder," she informed him, point blank.

Malfoy smirked. "I didn't ask you to. Did you really think I'd trust one of your bubble headed Gryffindor friends? The whole school would know before curfew."

"Oh," Hermione retorted angrily, "and I suppose the Slytherins are any more trustworthy? Sorry to disappoint you, Malfoy, but I will not perform a vow with one of _your_ friends present!"

There was a moment of silence where Hermione secretly berated herself for not telling anyone else she was here. It was extremely dangerous to go off anywhere alone anymore.

_Why am I being so foolish? _she asked herself_. Why?_

Malfoy was smirking at her. "Who ever said that one of my friends was going to be the bonder? I don't trust my friends," he snorted. "Only Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs would do something as dunderheaded as that."

Feeling defensive, Hermione replied, "Well, maybe that's because we're trustworthy! Unlike some power hungry Slytherins! We don't betray people we care about!"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Please, and you say that you support school unity. You're just as bias as the rest of us. You act like you're perfect, Granger, but I know the truth. You have the heart of an old, shriveled hag and you don't believe in anything that you can't touch. The only reason you want Potter is because _he's _Harry Potter. You can't handle not having the best of the best, can you?"

Absolutely furious, Hermione paused for a minute to control herself.

"I can. The real question is, can you? Malfoy, all you've ever been is a spoiled conceited little brat. I don't care what you say about me. You don't know me at all. I love Harry, and Harry loves me. Who are you? You are nothing to him. Nothing. Do you really think he'd pick you over me?" Hermione laughed cruelly. "Oh, give it up, Malfoy. You truly are pathetic, aren't you?"

Malfoy's pale face was quickly turning a bright pink color. Before he could reply, the room began to change. The dark reds and golds began to morph into blue and bronze. Eagles replaced lions. Hermione watched as the room transformed, shocked out of her anger, and then glanced at Malfoy to see his reaction. His face was returning to its normal color. He was watching her anxiety with pleasure.

The door of the room of requirement opened and a girl walked in.

"Padma," Hermione said, blinking slowly.

Padma nodded her head in greeting to them both. "Hermione, Malfoy."

Malfoy returned the gesture. "Patil."

"You're our bonder?" Hermione asked, trying to shake off her surprise.

"Oh, yes. I always knew you two fancied Harry. It was really quite obvious. I cannot believe my sister never saw it," she said. "Then again, she was always a bit… thick. I guess that's why she's a Gryffindor and I'm a Ravenclaw."

Hermione ignored the jab at her house. "So you and Malfoy are friends?"

Malfoy smirked and Padma shook her head. "No, not at all. I don't like or dislike him, particularly."

Hermione didn't understand, so she said so.

"Well," Padma told her. "I'm not completely unlike my sister. When Malfoy asked me to do this, I was interested in what would happen. He also offered something that I wanted in exchange for my service. So in the end, it all works out. I get to know more than most of the school does, participate in an Unbreakable Vow, and also get paid for doing something I already wanted to do."

"Sounds reasonable," Hermione replied slowly. "How are you getting paid to do this? Money?"

Padma smiled. "Oh, no. I don't need any money, as I am sure you are aware."

When she didn't explain further, Hermione thought it was better left alone. It all seemed straight. She studied with Padma before and enjoyed her company. There was nothing untrustworthy about the twin that she could detect. Maybe it was really all about who was getting Harry after all.

"So what are the terms of this bonding?" Padma asked. "Just to be perfectly, completely clear."

Malfoy stood up, directly across from Hermione. They locked eyes.

"Whoever Harry consents to marry," Malfoy said, "will be the winner."

"Marriage?" Hermione exclaimed, shocked for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. "Wait! I thought-"

"I know what you thought," Draco told her. "Marriage is final. Marriage bonds are stronger than almost all else. If he consents to marry one of us, that will strengthen the Unbreakable Vow to the point that the rejected one cannot even look at Potter without feeling a tremendous amount of pain."

Chills went down Hermione's spine, hearing that. There was also pleasure, however, in knowing that if she won Malfoy would be kicked out of their lives forever. Padma was staring at them both, as if she did not believe they would go through with it. Hermione particularly.

"Okay," Hermione said.

Malfoy seemed to be pleased at her answer. He knelt on the ground before the crackling fireplace and gestured for her to join him. Hermione knelt down next to him. They grabbed each other's right hands. Hermione's hand was sweaty and warm, Draco's cold and dry. He could have easily have said something condescending, but for some reason, he did not.

_Perhaps he is just as nervous as I am, _Hermione thought.

Padma stood over them and placed her wand on their linked hands. The room was almost stiflingly warm. The crackling fire illuminated their faces.

"If Harry Potter consents or asks for my hand in marriage, do you, Hermione Granger, agree to stop yourself from contacting either of us in any way possible?"

"I do," Hermione agreed.

A tongue of flame wound its way around their hands.

"Will you, Draco Malfoy, agree to stop yourself from contacting either Harry or I if he asks or consents to have my hand in marriage?"

"I will," Draco said.

A second flame shot out of Padma's wand and twisted around their joined hands.

Hermione felt as if she should have added something at the last moment. However, she could think of nothing, so instead she stared at the wire-like flames joining them. Another chapter in her life was starting, Hermione just hoped it that it wasn't the last.


	12. The Irony Of Dreams

**Disclaimer: _I do not own Harry Potter._**

**Three Decembers**

_**By Emerald Riddle**_

_**2006**_

**Part XII: The Irony Of Dreams**

Oh, my life is changing everyday  
Every possible way  
Though my dreams, it's never quite as it seems  
Never quite as it seems

I know I felt like this before  
But now I'm feeling it even more  
Because it came from you

Dream by The Cranberries

* * *

The room was foggy, indistinct. Hermione could just vaguely smell a hint of cologne. It was familiar, but she could not place where she had smelled it before. Moonlight filtered into the room from a window high above her. It illuminated the room, whose clouds twinkled and winked at her tantalizingly. She began to feel dizzy. The fog made it difficult to breathe. Somehow, somehow, it felt good not to breathe. She could feel so much, too much. Her heart was flying. Happiness. Completion. 

Arms wound themselves around her waist. Hermione was not startled. They felt as though they belonged. She gently touched the hands of her lover. They, too, were familiar. Cold, yet not clammy. Dry. He had calm hands. Un-shaking hands. Lips pressed themselves against her neck and Hermione allowed herself to melt into them. Sweet murmurs were whispered into her ear. She did not understand the words. They did not seem to be words. They were comfort, they were desire.

"Hermione…"

Her name. His hands. His hands sliding up her stomach, under her shirt. Those hands, cupping her breasts, slipping the nipples between his fingers and gently squeezing. Hermione moaned. Who was this lover, a small voice in her mind asked. Who was this gentle lover?

"Hermione."

Her shirt was slowly being slipped off of her body. Her bra, unclasped.

_Ron? _She wondered. Ron. Did Ron come back? Did he come back to make love to her? Did he…

Fingers slipped themselves into the waistband of her skirt. Then, that too was taken off.

_Harry? _Was Harry finally coming to his senses? Did he know how she felt? Did he want her, too? Did he…

The lips on her neck grew hungry. Teeth nibbled on her skin and Hermione was moaning again, wanting to know who this person was, wanting to know who her secret lover was who could make her feel so good. Then, suddenly, they were kissing. Hermione had her eyes closed as they kissed. He picked her up and carried her. When he put her down they were on her bed and they were still kissing, hungrily, as if they were starved. He was naked and he pressed her into the bed and that was when she looked up into his eyes.

_Harry. Ron._

No. His intense grey eyes. His delicate blond lashes. Locks of sleek white-blond hair framing his face.

"Draco," Hermione said, a half-moan and half-whisper.

"Hermione," he replied, tilting her chin up so they could see each other clearly.

Instead of shock, instead of anger, all Hermione felt was desire. It felt right. Irresistibly right. She caught his mouth in a kiss with no regrets at all.

Then, a voice, a voice that did not fit in the dream, awoke her.

Hermione blinked away the darkness of the common room. She felt flushed. A stumbling of feet caught her attention, then a gasp, and then a swish of a curtain and squeak of a mattress. Hermione's heart sped up. Somebody was awake. She looked around. The curtains around her bed were open. She quickly reached towards them and yanked them shut.

Her hands were shaking.

"Somebody heard me," she whispered, staring at her bedding.

_They heard me dreaming about Draco._


	13. Happy?

**Disclaimer: _I do not own Harry Potter._**

**Three Decembers**

_**By Emerald Riddle**_

_**2006**_

**Part XIII: Happy?**

_I feel it's me  
So overwhelmed  
Oh, there's precious little rising _

My life overturned  
Over the despair  
All these scabs keep ripping open

Peel me from the skin  
Peel me from the rind  
Does it make you happy now?

**Happy? By Mudvayne**

**

* * *

**

Harry was exhausted. He wanted desperately to sleep. Still, he worked. He worked hard and studied, even if it was at the last moment. Hermione disapproved most stronglyof that. She was pleased with him, however, he knew she was. He found that it was becoming more and more difficult to catch up when he was so infatuated with the idea of the potion he was creating. It was exciting. He wanted to be around its beautiful effects all the time. So even when he was not tired, he was depressed. Too depressed to want to care about his grades, but smart enough to know people would notice there was something wrong unless he acted normal.

Harry made a show of pretending to care a lot of the time, but no one was watching him very closely. There were quite a few geniuses at Hogwarts. Harry just happened not to be one of them. Why did school matter when he had such an important invention? Something that produced happiness?

As long as he had Hermione checking his work and keeping an eye on him in some of his classes, he would pass. Everyone, even Snape, knew that.

After a full day of classes Harry ran to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom on the second floor. Nobody happened to be in the corridor at the time, and he already knew the bathroom would be empty, so he rushed in. Myrtle was nowhere to be seen. Harry took the stall farthest from the door and locked it firmly behind him.

The jar from the night before was taken out of his pocket and enlarged to its former size. Staring at it in wonder, Harry inhaled deeply.

_I can't believe I'm really doing this. I can't believe I created this, I can't believe I'm lying to everyone, _he thought.

"But everyone wants a hero," he whispered. "I'm not a hero. I've done so much, but I'm not a hero. I couldn't even save Ron."

His hands began to shake.

"I need to be okay," he told himself. "I need to make myself okay. I need to make myself happy."

Harry flicked his wand and a bright flame erupted from the end of it. He held the jar with one gloved hand as the other heated it up. Soon, magically soon, fumes began to float up from the jar. This time, something was a little different about them. The plumes of smoke held the faint traces of color, mostly greens. Harry watched them dance above the glass jar, pleased with himself.

The colors began to swirl before his eyes, and he began to feel as if he was soaring. Bringing his face close to them, a seductive scent wafted in his direction. He inhaled. And, he inhaled. Everything spun. Colors soared. Harry felt as if he was on the best broom in the world, flying higher than any witch or wizard ever dreamed they could. He felt weightless. His legs buckled beneath him and the jar went tumbling out of his hands and crashing to the floor.

Glass and potion shone on the white tiles. Harry stared at it in wonder before a wave of dizziness crashed in over his head. Then he was drowning. He could not breath. It felt bad yet wonderful. Panic was buzzing through his body, but his brain swam in water. Harry's stomach fluttered with thousands of tiny butterflies. He was in love, and it hurt and felt beautiful and felt like nothing. He was nothing. He was numb. Feelings, so strong. He could barely process one before the next was charging through him like a jolt of electricity.

Then Harry was blind. Everything was black. Everything was calm. He was sleepy, so sleepy. Unable to resist the potions effects, Harry collapsed on the tiles. Glass dug into his flesh. Warm potion soaked into his robes. He felt nothing.

Hours passed as he slept.

"Harry, are you okay? Where have you been?" Hermione asked, upon seeing Harry enter the common room.

Harry blinked at her. Then he smiled.

"I'm fine," he told her.

Hermione bit her lip as she examined him. Harry ignored her. Ginny approached them a moment later.

"Are you going to the game tomorrow?" she asked him.

"Game?" Harry repeated blankly.

"Yes, Harry! Quidditch! Slytherin against Hufflepuff, remember? They've been putting off the game for months now!" Ginny exclaimed, exasperated with him. "Are you okay?"

Harry chuckled easily. "Of course I am, Ginny. It just slipped my mind is all. I'm definitely going."

He gave her a big grin. "Want to sit together? I need someone to discuss tactics with before bringing them to Dra- I mean, Malfoy."

Ginny raised an eyebrow and gave him a sly, flirtatious smile. "Of course. I'll be looking forward to it," she said, and turned to return to her friends.

Harry watched her for a moment, thinking that she had grown up to be really pretty.

"What was that?" Hermione asked him.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Hermione said, "what was that about? Sitting together? I thought we were going to sit together! You asked me weeks ago to help you!"

Harry gave her a strange look. "Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. Sorry, Hermione. You can still sit with me. I'm sure Ginny won't mind."

"Oh! I'm sure she won't!" Hermione laughed angrily. "You just don't get it, do you? You're just as clueless as Ron was!"

At the mention of Ron's name, Harry's easy attitude shattered. "What? What in the bloody hell are you talking about, Hermione?"

"Ginny fancies you, Harry," she hissed. "A lot of girls, students, fancy you."

"Okay, but what does that have to do with Ron? What does that have to do with anything?" Harry demanded.

Hermione shook her head, then stopped. She leaned closer and sniffed him.

"Harry, what's that smell? It smells like perfume. And you, you have glass in your hair," she said, a distant look in her eye.

Harry was quiet. _Does she know? _he wondered.

"Harry, Harry… Have you been with a girl? Is that where you're always off to? To go see a girl?" she asked, staring into the fireplace.

Harry's tension relaxed. He laughed. "A girl? Oh, no, Hermione. I was not out seeing a girl. I was just… taking a walk. Thinking."

"Harry… You know you can tell me anything. If it's not a girl, well, it isn't a boy, is it?"

Harry was about to tell Hermione that she knew he didn't fancy boys, but he paused. Draco's kiss rang in his mind. He had enjoyed it, didn't he? Did that mean he was gay? He hadn't any serious feelings about anyone since Cho. How could he know?

"Don't worry about me, Hermione," Harry sighed. "I'm not with anyone at the moment. Do you really think I'd keep something like that from you?" he asked her seriously.

"No, no Harry, you're right. You wouldn't."

Harry grabbed her hand for a moment and smiled. "You're my best friend."

Hermione smiled back and squeezed his hand. "I know. I love you, Harry."

With Hermione smiling at him, her face warm and pink from the fire, her eyes twinkling with happiness, Harry thought that for a moment, she was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. His heart skipped a beat.

"I love you too, Hermione," he said, enveloping her in a hug. "Friends through everything, yeah?" he whispered in her ear.

She looked strangely disappointed when he removed himself from her arms.

"Yeah. Friends forever."

Neither of them saw Ginny watching them from a corner of the room. They also did not see her turn away and clench her fists after Harry excused himself to go to bed.

* * *

**A/N: _This is the last of the prewritten chapters. I'm working on the next one right now, so hopefully that should be up soon as well. I would really like to remind everyone that this fic is not in the final stages yet and I still need a beta/editor. If you think you're right for the job, then please do leave a comment saying so, or email me. I can definitely use more than one for several jobs not limited to helping me on the plot, grammar, characterization, ect. To everyone else, I really do listen to and consider all your reviews. You have no idea how much I appreciate it! Thanks again and remember: Reviews feed my muse!_**


	14. Snogging With A Side Of Quidditch

**Disclaimer: _I do not own Harry Potter._**

**Three Decembers**

_**By Emerald Riddle**_

_**2007**_

**Part XIV: Snogging With A Side Of Quidditch**

_It comes down to this.  
Your kiss.  
Your fist.  
And your strain.  
It gets under my skin.  
Within.  
Take in the extent of my sin. _

You give me the anger.  
You give me the nerve.  
Carry out the sentence.  
I get what I deserve.  
I'm just an effigy to be defaced.  
To be disgraced.  
Your need for me has been replaced.  
And if I can't have everything, well then, just give me a taste.

_**Sin By Nine Inch Nails**_

* * *

****

Harry was on his way to breakfast when somebody suddenly grabbed his wrist.

"Potter," Malfoy said, staring at him strangely.

"Malfoy," Harry returned.

The hand on his wrist tightened for a moment. "Wish me luck."

Harry shook his head. "Why would I do that?" he asked, trying to pry Malfoy's fingers from his arm.

Malfoy didn't answer. He also didn't let go.

"What's your bloody problem, Malfoy?" Harry nearly yelled at him.

It was as if Draco was trying to push him off his guard; force Harry to be unbalanced. It didn't make sense. Why would he want to do such a thing? Harry glanced at his lips. That kiss. Torture was a polite way to describe the headaches Harry had gotten from trying to understand why Malfoy had done it. What were they now? What did he want? What did Harry want from all this? He didn't know, but now he was going to find out.

"Come on."

Harry pulled an unresisting Malfoy into the first empty broom closet he found. After he closed the door, he rounded on the Slytherin.

"What's your problem? What exactly are you trying to pull, Draco?"

Malfoy blinked and feigned innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about, _Harry_."

He smirked as Harry glared at him.

"I'm tired of your fucking games, Malfoy," he told him.

"Then it's a bad day for Quidditch, I suppose…" he trailed off as Harry slammed his fist into the wall next to his face.

Malfoy could barely suppress a flinch.

Pure rage was pumping through Harry. All the little games to play with his head, the smirks and sneers, the other boy's unsettling habit of constantly watching him… That goddamned kiss. Was their truce truly temporary? Harry had come to enjoy Malfoy's company somewhat. Was it nothing to Draco? Was it just another excuse to fuck around with Harry Potter's head?

Harry had to know.

However, Malfoy wasn't telling him anything.

_I wonder how much you'd like to be shocked and shoved off of your feet_, Harry thought, trying to fight against his own rapidly swirling emotions.

Those cold gray eyes. Emotionless.

"I'm going to make you feel, Malfoy," Harry said quietly, shoving the other boy up against the door.

"Wha-" the rest of the word was left unsaid as Harry kissed him.

It was a hungry kiss. Angry. Harry kept telling himself that this was revenge, that he didn't truly enjoy kissing another boy, but he did. He made himself forget that it was Malfoy for a moment and pulled him into the kiss even deeper. Hands were pulling his robe open, scrabbling against the buttons on his chest. Lips were on his neck, sucking the skin there and making Harry moan. Before Harry knew it he was being pinned against the door, his wrists held in one pale hand above his head.

A shock of arousal flew went through him at the sudden change. Harry arched his back to get closer to the other boy, but the hand held him there. They were kissing so hard that he was almost sure one or both of them would bruise as a result of it.

"Fuck," Harry moaned as a hand palmed his hard cock through his pants.

A tongue flicked out and licked his ear, at first tentatively, and then Malfoy began to suck on his earlobe. Harry's hips jerked forward. Where did Malfoy learn to use his mouth so well? It certainly hadn't been in good use whenever he spoke. Sweat dripped down Harry's face as he struggled, wanting more of the touch, of those lips, of those wondrous hands… Malfoy banged Harry's hands against the door in warning to stop him from struggling. Harry couldn't help it. He wanted this. He wanted this now. He wanted Malfoy on the floor naked, underneath him.

_You don't really need to like someone to fuck them, do you? _Harry thought vaguely to himself.

Malfoy banged Harry's hands against the door again, and they both let out surprised yells when the door burst open and they fell. The two sat sprawled on the floor for a moment before untangling their limbs. Harry was attempting to catch his breath when he realized that several students were watching them in amazement.

Draco stood, brushing himself off.

"I won't let you off so easily next time, Potter," he drawled.

Harry understood. "Don't worry, Malfoy. I'll give back as good as I get. Don't you have a match to get your ass kicked in? That would be the second time today, wouldn't it?"

"Piss off, chamber pot," Malfoy snarled before stalking away.

It did look as if they were fighting. Their clothes were all askew, their faces flushed and hair mussed, and they were out of breath. Harry could only imagine what the students heard coming out of that closet, but the excuse would do.

As Harry wandered into breakfast, he saw Malfoy already eating and realized something.

He was much more confused now than he was before.

Bitter cold winds bit into Harry's cheeks as he went down to the pitch with Ginny. Hermione was nowhere to be seen. He could just assume she was going to meet up with them a little later to discuss how Hufflepuff and Slytherin had played. The stadium was packed with excited students and he had nearly lost Ginny several times. Finally, she grabbed his hand and pulled him into the stands.

He barely registered that she held it even after they had already sat down.

"So who do you think is going to win?" Ginny asked him after she released his hand.

Her red hair was swept all around her glowing face. She was quite pretty, really. Her brown eyes twinkled as she smiled at him.

Harry smiled back. "Slytherin, I expect. If they wouldn't have before, they will now with our training sessions. "

Ginny nodded in agreement. "I'm just hoping that we've haven't made them unbeatable. Draco's never been better on a broom," she added, watching the blond in question walk out onto the pitch.

Harry nearly cricked his neck as his head swiveled around to look at the Slytherin. Harry suddenly felt his face flush, remembering their antics in the broom closet.

_Better on a broom, indeed. At least I know I'm bisexual now, if not outright gay._ Harry sighed at his own thoughts.

Draco looked good out there. He was so pale that he seemed almost like a prince of the snow. His dark robes only put more emphasis on his pale features. The glinting blond-silver of his hair shone as the sun reflected off of it. Malfoy looked confident to be there. He looked comfortable in his own skin.

Harry frowned a little. He would have loved that type of confidence.

When he turned back to Ginny, he realized she was still speaking. Harry tuned back into the conversation as everyone waited for the stadium to fill.

Soon, the game started.

Harry had never watched a single player an entire game. Not even when he had that crush on Cho. Yet now, it was all Malfoy. He flew so elegantly, it should have been a crime. Nobody should have looked that good on a broom. His hair hadn't been mussed once, and the look of careful concentration did not waver even as bludgers flew precariously over his head. Draco was sure of himself. It was obvious to anyone watching the game that he would win it. He would catch the snitch.

And so he did.

Harry had the presence of mind to realize that they had won the game, even as his eyes were latched onto how Malfoy smiled as the snitch struggled to get out of his grip. It reminded him of how _he_ had struggled in that same grip.

_What's wrong with me? _Harry asked himself. _Why am I so obsessed with him now?_

Hermione never showed up to the match. Harry's thoughts jumped from one thing to another and he never noticed that Ginny continued to talk to him, or that they were soon holding hands again as they headed towards the castle. He duly noted that Ginny was beaming at him as she leaned over and kissed his cheek before going to join her friends.

Harry felt he needed some alone time. He was surely going through shock if the only thing he could think about was how well Malfoy could kiss or ride a broom. Riding brooms were all well and good- when he was thinking of actual broomsticks.

"I need to study," Harry muttered to himself, thinking of his potion. It was a rare thing for him to say, he noted feeling a little amused.

"Harry," somebody said quietly, shaking his shoulder.

He turned to see Lavendar biting her lip. "I really need to talk to you about something."

Harry frowned at her. What kind of gossip did she want to spew now?

"I really don't have time now, Lavendar. I need to go do some studying. How about later?" he suggested, feeling charitable.

Lavendar didn't look happy as she nodded reluctantly. Harry turned from her and left the common room, intending on going to his room.

* * *

**A/N: I didn't get nearly enough finished in this chapter as I had originally intended. Then again, the first draft got deleted so I was forced to rewrite it from memory. That closet scene disappoints me. It was much hotter before, but I find that I'm quite preoccupied now. I'd like to hear your thoughts and theories. I always enjoy reading them. **

** I'm afraid that updates are going to be much slower (or much faster, depending). Right now I really want to start re-editing Shards of a Diamond and start writing up some new chapters for it. I'll have to work on this in between editing, rewriting, and replotting various aspects of SoaD. I'd still very much like a beta, and I'm going to begin actively looking for one, but right now I want this all done by my own hand before I go and try polishing it all up.**

** If you want to crit anything from any of my stories, now's a really good time to do so. If I don't reply to your review, it's not because I hate you, it's because I honestly forgot. I'm a bit antisocial these days...**

** Anywho, remember kiddies! Reviews feed my muse (and make me update faster...) .**


	15. Doors That Open And Slam Shut

**Disclaimer: _I do not own Harry Potter._**

**Three Decembers**

_**By Emerald Riddle**_

_**2007**_

**Part XV: Doors That Open (And Slam Shut)**

_I'll tell you now you can't win this  
You're way too slow  
I'll tell you, I'm gonna take this  
Did you come here to watch me burn? _

I'll let it show that  
I'm not always hiding  
Come all the way down  
And watch me burn  
I won't let it show that  
I'm not always flying  
So on the way down  
I'll watch you burn

-Burn By Three Days Grace

* * *

Hermione, for the life of her, could not stop the curses from forming on her silent mouth. She could not stop a single name from branding itself inside her brain with big, black letters. She wanted to, oh, she did. Hermione didn't like being burned by fury. She couldn't help it, though. She just couldn't. 

Malfoy.

There was no proof. There was no proof of it at all, she tried to remind herself as her bindings dug into her flesh. There was no proof Malfoy tripped her with a jinx behind her back. There wasn't. There wasn't any proof that he then stunned her, binded her, then silenced her and left her in a closet. The person who did it hid themselves under a hood. Hell, Hermione didn't even know if it was a boy who did it! There was no voice, as the spells were casted silently.

Silent.

How would she get out of this mess if she couldn't speak? Couldn't move? Surely the person who did this would come back for her… Right? The name flared up again, forcing Hermione to bite her lip to stop her temper from rising. Blood seeped out on to her tongue.

_Wonderful, _Hermione thought blandly. _Just wonderful._

If Malfoy had done this, then he did it to give her a warning. To stay away from Harry. The situation she was in was a setback, no doubt, but Hermione would be damned if she would let anyone take Harry from her. And that was just what Malfoy was trying to do. He was trying to take Harry from her life. Not only as a love interest, but also as a friend. Malfoy was trying to take away everything that was hers by right.

Hermione was not one to be foolish, yet she had to admit, she was feeling considerably foolish at the moment. She refused to think depressing thoughts. The Unbreakable Vow was already taken, she could not just pretend it didn't exist. Her own competitiveness, her own affections and hatreds, her own curiosity had gotten the best of her.

Still. She refused to think of it as a mistake.

Instead, she opted for thinking that it was another door opening, and another door slamming shut.

Right in Malfoy's pointy face.

Outside was the quidditch match she was supposed to attend with Harry and Ginny. Honestly, if Malfoy _did _do this to her, then he was the one who was foolish. They weren't the only ones who fancied Harry. Ginny had been after him for about as long as Hermione could remember. She didn't want Harry manipulated by circumstances and choosing because he was ignorant. No, she loved Harry with all of her heart. If he really did want Malfoy over her, then so be it, _after _she told him about all that has been going on and her own feelings toward him.

If Hermione wasn't absolutely, positively sure that Harry loved her just as much as she loved him, she would have never went through with the vow. Hermione had faith.

Faith.

Bad faith.

That made her thoughts turn to Malfoy again. Narrowing her eyes, Hermione thought, _Bad faith, indeed. He's definitely in bad faith for even thinking he can earn Harry's affections after all the hell he's put us through these past few years._

Suddenly, the small closet was full of light and a hooded figure stood before her. Hermione tried to see who it was under the hood before they stunned her again and failed. She awoke a few minutes later as the closet door closed in her face again. The bindings were gone. She could speak.

_I wonder if I still have my wand…_ she mused, checking her pockets and not finding it. The closet was very dark, but she didn't feel safe leaving unless she was armed with her wand.

"_Lumos_," Hermione whispered.

A wand tip near the door lit up.

"I wasn't sure that would work," Hermione said to herself, feeling pleased.

Outside there was no trace of the person who had locked her in. Students crowded the corridors, excited and all talking about the game they just saw. From what she could gather, Slytherin won with a lead of about 200 points. Hermione frowned, wondering how on earth Malfoy could have found the time to disguise himself, trap her in the closet, and then go prepare for his match. Even unlikelier was how fast the person returned. Malfoy would have surely taken an extra hour with having to change and shower, and maybe even a few more hours to celebrate straight afterwards.

_No, _Hermione thought. _This doesn't make any sense at all._

Even as she knew it was almost impossible for Malfoy to have the time to do something like that, she had nobody else to suspect. Surely… _surely_, he would have found a way? He was Draco Malfoy, after all.

As Hermione was walking towards the common room, she saw Harry leave it. He walked right past her without even noticing she was there. He seemed preoccupied. Hermione contemplated following him for a moment. It was a good way to finally see what he's been doing for the long hours he sometimes disappeared for. Deciding that it wasn't a good idea to jeopardize their friendship like that (at least not yet), she crawled into the common room instead.

The first thing she saw was Ginny. She was smiling widely and talking to some of her friends. Hermione overheard a few words that stopped her dead in her tracks.

"…can't _believe _you _kissed _him. Harry Potter! I can't believe it! He didn't seem to mind, either," a girl was saying to Ginny, wriggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Ginny laughed and shook her head.

Hermione's blood went cold.

"It was only on the cheek. Nothing else," she said, still beaming.

Hermione let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Yeah," one of the girls said. "But it could be something else. He fancies you, Ginny, I just know it!"

Hermione glared at the foolish girl, trying to place a name to her face. Nothing came up except for _bitch_, which she refused to think of anybody as, so she gave up.

"You think?" Ginny replied thoughtfully.

She touched her cheek for a moment, seeming to be deep in thought. Hermione could have sworn that her eyes flickered towards her once before continuing.

"You know… I was actually thinking of asking him out for our next Hogsmead visit," Ginny informed them, smiling a little.

"Oh, that's a great idea, Ginny!" several of the girls exclaimed, one in particular.

Hermione decided that she would be thinking of that sixth year as _bitch_, after all. It seemed quite fitting.

"Yeah," Ginny said, her eyes un-mistakenly meeting Hermione's across the room, "I think I will."

Hermione sharply inhaled through her teeth. This couldn't be. Ginny was her _friend_… Why was she so obviously trying to hurt her?

The answer came quickly.

Ginny had wanted Harry first. She even told Hermione about how much she loved him. Ginny was getting revenge because she thought Hermione was trying to betray her.

Hermione stared at her old friend pleadingly, though the other girl had broken eye contact a few long minutes ago.

_I didn't mean to hurt you, Ginny, but I can't help how I feel, _Hermione thought, frowning deeply.

Deciding she needed a rest from her hectic day, Hermione began to walk towards the Girls' Dorms. As she passed Ginny she resisted the urge to pull the other girl along with her and explain everything. It was no use. Ginny was mad, and when a Weasley was mad there really was no getting through to them. Hermione should know. She had a lot of experience in such matters. So as she strolled past Ginny, she dropped her eyes to the maroon carpeting and gasped.

On the floor was Ginny's school bag.

Hanging out of the bag, quite clearly, was a black hooded cloak.

There was no doubt in Hermione's mind as to who locked her in the closet now.

Bringing her head up sharply, she turned to Ginny, who was watching her with a small smirk on her lips. There were no verbal words. Their eyes said it all.

War.

As Hermione walked up the spiral staircase leading her to her dorm room, she took out her wand from her robe pocket and hid it up her sleeve. Incanting silently, she flicked her wand once towards Ginny's bag. Screams of surprise as it caught fire followed her as she closed the dorm room door behind her.

_Oh, yes. War, indeed, _Hermione thought as a grim smile formed on her lips.

Revenge certainly was sweet.

* * *

**A/N: I'd like your thoughts and theories on both the characters and the plot, please. Oh, and if there's anything you particularly dislike, can you point that out as well? I'm not entirely sure how everyone feels about what's going on, and I want to fix anything I can while this is still a WiP. Oh, more snogging soon. I promise :) Heheh. I love when Hermione is kicking some arse (or cloak in this case...).**


	16. Interlude: Desire

**Disclaimer: _I do not own Harry Potter._**

**Three Decembers**

_**By Emerald Riddle**_

_**2007**_

**Part XVI: Interlude: Desire**

_Who can say when the roads meet,  
That love might be,  
In your heart. _

And who can say when the day sleeps,  
The moon still keeps on moving  
If the night keeps all your heart?  
Night keeps all your heart...

Who can say if your love grows,  
As your heart chose?  
Only time...

And who can say where the road goes,  
Where the day flows?  
Only time...

Who knows?  
Only time...

**-Only Time by Enya**

* * *

There was a short time of peace for Draco. He was still in the afterglow of the winning match a week later. If that wasn't enough to keep him in a good mood, then the memories of kissing Harry in a broom closet certainly were. They hadn't spoken since, but their eyes had met on several occasions. Seeing the flash of green in his eyes, followed by a violent blush on Potter's cheeks and a hesitant smile… it was enough to make Draco's day (and his night as well if his dreams were anything to go by). 

Granger seemed to have forgotten all about him. She would usually shoot him a calculating glance during meals or classes. Now all she seemed to be looking at… was Ginny Weasley. It was strange to say the least. Draco entertained the thought that Granger was a lesbian more than once in his years at Hogwarts, so did almost everyone else. Yet, to assume that her attentions moved from Potter to Weasley so quickly… it was ludicrous. There was something going on between them.

_As long as it doesn't interrupt my budding relationship with Potter… _Draco let the thought hang there. He didn't care as long as that wasn't the case.

Still, he watched Granger push her frizzy hair back into a pony tail before resuming her dinner. Between bites, her eyes would wander towards Weasley and narrow, then she would glance at Potter and then back towards Weasley. Draco tilted his head thoughtfully. What was going on in that frizzy head of hers?

What Draco didn't know was that he would find out soon. Too soon.

* * *

The week after the match had been extraordinarily stressful for Hermione. When she wasn't trying to keep Ginny away from Harry, or trying to figure out where Harry _was _(for he had been gone for hours on end every day), she was studying or attempting to make sense of the mess she was now in. 

Draco Malfoy fancied Harry. Ginny fancied Harry. Hermione had made a vow with Malfoy… it was all a huge competition. Something like a trashy romance novel that Lavender or Parvati would read! Hermione groaned. The vow had made so much sense at the time… with her swirling, confused emotions raging through her; she thought that it would all work out. How could it, though? The whole point of the vow was to help Malfoy keep away anybody else who had feelings for Harry, all the while competing _against _each other to win his heart. The winner would truly take it all. The loser would lose it all. Lose Harry. Lose their everything.

_I'm manipulating my best friend. He'd never forgive me if he found out… I'm trying to take away his choices at romance so that I'm the only one left. It's horrid… It's wrong… It's something I would usually detest._

Hermione ran her hands through her hair, vaguely remembering a dream in which hands softly touched her and murmured sweet words. Blushing, she shoved the memories away.

_What is Malfoy doing to me?_

"I can't back out," she whispered, the sudden weight of her own actions crashing down around her. "I can't back out."

* * *

Confusion… ripping… Harry felt like an old rag doll, tearing apart at the seams. His thoughts were continuous. They wouldn't stop. Memories kept playing themselves in a loop in his head; like a movie, and the soundtrack was his own screaming confusion. Far from solving anything, his own actions with Malfoy before the match were making him wonder about everything even more. 

He started the year, still mourning for Ron and fearing his future; constantly wondering if he was really strong enough to defeat Voldemort. The stress nearly overwhelmed him on several occasions. Then, this odd new friendship with Malfoy started as they worked together to keep Quidditch in the school (and to prefect each of their teams) and slowly more stress began to pile on top of him.

Mostly because of how he thought Ron would react. Ron would hate that he agreed to have practices with Slytherin. Ron would hate that he had started being civil to Malfoy (calling him by his first name, for Merlin's sake!). Ron would have been disgusted by his new-found sexuality. He was sure. He was sure that if Ron was there, he would despise him. Everyday now, Harry fought against himself.

Ron would have wanted him to be with Ginny; to marry Ginny and have a happy future. Ron would have wanted him to look over Hermione and take care of her. Ron would have wanted him to punch Malfoy in the face, not kiss him senseless.

Ron stood in front of him now, just as he always did whenever Harry took the sheet off of the Mirror of Erised.

"Ron," Harry whispered, sitting on the floor of his secret room, directly facing the mirror. "Ron. You were my first friend. You showed me about family, loyalty, love. You didn't explain it in words so much as actions and I never got to tell you…" his voice broke. "I never spoke enough to you. I never asked enough. I was always too silent. I was never as good of a friend as I could have been… I failed you. I let you die." Tears slipped from his eyes.

"I never told you how much I loved you."

Harry was surprised at his own words; however, he knew every single one to be true.

He looked at Ron, who gave him a concerned smile and shook his head.

"Ron!" Harry screamed, angry with himself for expecting an answer. His head ached. He just wanted the pain to die already. "You should be angry, Ron!" he screamed at the glass. "You should hate me for not always thinking of you! You should hate me! I bet you do… I bet you can see every single thing I've done, every lie I've made, I bet you can fucking see it all…"

"And I bet you hate me more than you have ever hated anyone in Slytherin."

The Ron in the mirror frowned and shook his head, looking vaguely confused. Then he smiled again.

He was so blank… So not Ron.

"Copy," Harry muttered to himself, putting his face in his hands. "I'm speaking to a copy of my dead best friend, and trying to convince it to hate me. I'm completely mental."

Harry got up and picked up the sheet. He covered the mirror up again, ignoring the sad look on Ron's face.

"Just because my greatest desire is to make your reflection real, doesn't mean it'll work," he told himself.

The reflection would only act as he wanted it to, or how he thought it would. Why Ron was the way he was, Harry didn't know, but he supposed that deep down in his heart, he thought that it was truly how Ron would react. Or how he hoped he would react.

Harry frowned and turned to his desk, thinking he needed something to help him through the night. He often did, these days.

* * *

**A/N: Ah. An Interlude. The calm before the storm sort of chapter. This is rather short but it needed to be written, because after this things are going to get... rather messy and confusing for our three main characters ;) Concrit is VERY welcome. I won't always agree with you, and I'll usually explain why, but I ALWAYS keep whatever you say in mind while I write. I like your thoughts, theories, and rambles as well! Also, artists? I really like art. I rarely get any for fanfics I write, so... yeah. -poke- **

**Next chapter shouldn't take so long to put up.** **Sorry! It's been exactly a month today, I know!**


	17. Revelations And Butterfly Kisses

**Disclaimer: _I do not own Harry Potter._**

**Three Decembers**

_**By Emerald Riddle**_

_**2007**_

**Part XVII: Revelations And Butterfly Kisses**

_One more medicated peaceful moment  
Give me one more medicated peaceful moment  
_

**-Orestes by A Perfect Circle**

* * *

"Harry," Lavender's voice was pained this time, almost a begging whine. "I really need to tell you something. I can't stand it anymore! I haven't told anyone, I've even kept it from Parvati, and I can't hold it in. I need to tell someone!" 

Harry stared at her. They've never really spoken before, and she was there, begging for a few minutes of his time. Girls were weird creatures, that was for sure.

"All right," he replied slowly.

They were in the common room. Several students milled about doing homework and laying around before going to sleep. Lavender grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into an abandoned corner. Her face was split between eagerness and anxiety. Harry didn't doubt that she had some kind of gossip to tell him.

"The other night," she began, breathless with excitement, "I was up, you know, combing my hair and applying beauty potions before I went to sleep… Oh, I was using this absolutely _wonderful_ new cleansing mask, Harry-"

Harry rolled his eyes. The few conversations he had or had overheard with Lavender usually sounded like this.

"Go on," he said forcefully.

"Oh! Well, anyway, I was combing my hair when I heard some mumbling coming from Hermione's bed. It was odd, you know, because she doesn't really make any noise in her sleep." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Not like Parvati; sometimes she _snores_. She always blames it on Hermione but we all _really_ know it's _her_…"

"Lavender!"

Lavender looked put out. "Fine! Like I said, Hermione was mumbling. Since it was strange and all, I thought I would check to see if something was wrong."

Harry snorted. As if Lavender needed a reason to snoop.

She ignored it and plowed on. "So I went over to her bed, right, and listened. She was talking in her sleep." Lavender's eyes shone and glimmered with excitement as they always did whenever she found out some particularly titillating piece of information.

"She was _moaning_," Lavender giggled. "I think she was having a _wet dream_."

Heat flared up in Harry's face in an instant. Inescapable heat. Merlin, he didn't need to know that about _Hermione_. The thought of Hermione having that type of dream was… inconceivable. The thought of her in her bed clothes, writhing and moaning, her hands unconsciously moving downwards between her legs, her chest heaving…

_OhmyGod._

Harry's face felt like it had an open flame near it, and an impossible (not possible! It wasn't possible) chills of arousal trickled down his spine.

"You're- you're crazy!" he told Lavender, for need of something better to say, to get _that_ image of his best friend out of his head. "Why- why did you? Why did you think I would want to know something like that?

Why?" he demanded, heat still rolling in waves off of him. Inside his head, Hermione was bringing her fingers to her lips and licking them as if they were succulent sweets.

_OH my **GOD!**_

But Lavender was bobbing on her heals with excitement. "Oh! But you don't know who it was about! That's the best part! She kept saying a name. Sooo… do you want to know who it was?"

The question. That question. Harry's heart stopped for a moment in anticipation. Why was he reacting this way? His brain hoped it wasn't him. His life would be _a lot _more complicated that way, but his groin wanted to hear it. His hormones wanted Hermione to want him, wanted her to moan his name as she slept, wanted her hands to wander over her body while thinking of him.

_Wrong!_ A distant part of his brain shouted. _Wrong! Wrong! This is so wrong! What would Ron say?_

Harry inhaled and bit his lip. He looked over at Lavender with regret.

"No, I don't."

Her jaw dropped. Harry turned to walk away, his mind churning.

"It was Draco!" she exclaimed. "Draco Malfoy!"

Harry tripped over his feet.

"What?"

Lavender grabbed his arm again, grinning widely. "Draco Malfoy. You know him, right?"

That bitch. She _knew _that he knew who Draco Malfoy was. He knew who Draco Malfoy was all too well. The whole bloody school knew that!

Harry glared at her. "I _told_ you not to fucking tell me."

Her eyes widened.

"You disgusting hag. Listening to people while they sleep! Is that how you get off?" his voice got louder with every word. Soon everybody in the common room was staring at them.

Hermione in particular, he noticed, his shock ebbing away to fury and something else. Jealousy? For who? Hermione or Malfoy? He banished the thought. Betrayal. This was what it was. Betrayal.

Harry wrenched his arm out of Lavender's grip and marched up to his dorm, making sure to glare at Hermione as he passed her. Vaguely, he heard the sounds of two girls bursting into tears as he walked. Harry found he didn't much care.

The seventh year boys' dorm was empty. Harry sat on his bed and closed off the curtains around him. Inside his pocket were the results of his frenzied experiments while he was away in his secret room. There was a small, shrunken jar, a handful of pills, a vial, and a syringe. All of them were crude and unpolished attempts. Since Harry wasn't a perfectionist like Hermione (his hands clenched at the thought of her) he didn't much care.

He was uncertain about using the syringe. There had to be magical ways to inject things into his blood stream. Shoving something into his skin seemed very risky, especially when one was injecting something home-made. Harry put the syringe away. The research could be done later. Instead, he took out a pill and held it in his sweaty hand.

Making the potion something that could be orally taken instead of inhaled wasn't as difficult as he previously thought it would be. It could have been the fact that it was a potion, or just that it was magical. Thoughts on why and how were never something he was particularly interested when it came to Potions. That could have been blamed on Snape, he supposed, or maybe Hermione since she usually took care of that thinking for him.

Thinking of Hermione hurt. She was the last person he had; the only person he had. He loved her like a sister, at least that's what he always thought. Today turned everything around; reversed it completely. Why did he care that she had a dream about Malfoy? Even if it was… one of those dreams, it was none of his business. Right? The sharp feelings of betrayal lingered. Harry remembered the vague feeling of arousal coursing through him while Lavender led him along in her little cruel game, the butterflies being freed in his stomach at possibilities. Hermione wanting him, it was never a possibility, never an option, but now? Now he wanted it. Harry didn't want her overlooking him and loving somebody else.

Hermione was one of the few he trusted, one of his only friends. If she was taken away from him… Harry would not be able to bear it.

_Am I selfish? _He wondered. _Do I want her only as a friend? Are these just my hormones? Or-_ Harry could not bring himself to think it. It was shocking.

_As shocking as kissing Malfoy in a broom closet? As shocking as enjoying it?_

Harry's hands shook. What was going on? Did somebody put a curse on him so everything would fall apart right in front of his eyes?

_I don't understand._

Malfoy. He had enjoyed kissing Malfoy. After days of fighting with himself, he admitted that yes, he was attracted to him. Love? No. No, Harry didn't love him. It was a possibility, however. It was an option for the future. Hermione. He loved her, yes, but how did he love her was yet to be determined. Did he want her? Yes. Yes, he wanted her. It made more sense the more he thought of it. How he always admired her smile, the way she walked, the way he liked when she held onto his arm as they walked together, even (especially) how he loved to look at her legs whenever they were revealed under the folds of her robes.

Harry inhaled once slowly. He exhaled. Hermione. Malfoy. Butterflies swarmed his chest, their fragile wings beating against his insides.

_I fancy Hermione, too. I didn't even know it was possible to fancy two people at the same time. What is going on with me? Maybe I really am going insane._

Harry filled up a glass with water with the jug kept near their bedsides. Then he popped the pill he still had in his hand in his mouth, and downed it with water.

It took a few moments to take effect. Soon, Harry was in a world where he could fly without a broom and where every breath he exhaled came out as a rainbow colored cloud. There was no pain there. No confusion. He wished he could stay forever as he felt the butterflies inside him fly out in a beautifully colored silver and amber swarm. Harry sighed as they planted feather light kisses all over him. This place was love.

_Why was I so mad at Hermione? She loves me, I love her. One day I might love Draco, and Draco may love me. Then we can all love each other._

The thought was swept away with butterfly kisses lulling him to sleep.

* * *

**A/N:** **Lav-Lav is far too much fun too write as a gossipy, silly ditz. Now, as always, reviews feed my muse and make me update faster :D**

**EDIT/RANT:** I think a few people are confused... The wet dream mentioned in this chapter? Well, I'd like you all to recall (or if you have to, reread) chapter 12. It is titled "The Irony Of Dreams". Remember it? Hermione has a sexual dream about our dear Draco Malfoy. Remember that Hermione suspected somebody of hearing her, even though she wasn't aware of how much noise she was making? Well, yes. That was Lavander, and Lav-Lav being the wonderful girl that she is- told Harry all about it. Can't be too harsh on the poor girl, though. She didn't spread it around the school like she could have.

Now... Hopefully nobody else is confused. I _do_ have a plot to this story. Most of the things I've been writing actually do have things to do with the plot. You think I've backed myself into a corner with a few things I've made the characters do? Well, you're wrong, and no, I won't tell you what happens, even though I full well know. Sorry for the rant, but some people seem to think that I make everything up as I go along. I really don't. Example: The dream Hermione had wasn't just a bit of fluff that I randomly decided to plop in there, it was crucial for the rest of the story to work the way I wanted it too. You should know that just by reading this chapter.

Still, plot ideas are enjoyed and welcome. I can always squeeze in something if I really like it, and hey, it may even work with the story better than some of my own ideas. I want this to be a fun reading experience for everyone.

This story that's not going to be as short as I originally thought, btw. They're all still in December here. Wow.

**Harry is a bit of a hippie when he's drugged up, isn't he? Heheh.**


	18. A Dangerous Alliance

**Disclaimer: _I do not own Harry Potter._**

**Three Decembers**

_**By Emerald Riddle**_

_**2007**_

**Part XVIII: A Dangerous Alliance**

_Can we fly? Do I stay?  
We could lose, we could fail  
Either way, options change  
Chances fail, trains derail._

30 Minutes by Tatu

**&.&.&**

"Harry, I was wondering if you would to go to Hogsmead with me."

Those words. Funny how they could change so much.

Hermione was there when Ginny asked him. It definitely explained why Ginny had sat next to her in the first place. Hermione always sat with Harry, therefore it was logical that the best place for Ginny to sit was somewhere near her. Next to her was pushing this theory, but Hermione had a theory for everything. It wasn't as much as a theory instead of a _fact _that Ginny was vindictive enough to ask someone Hermione fancied right in front of her. Well, certainly it hadn't been a fact before… But everything changes when love and war are introduced, particularly hand-in-hand.

And Ginny was a Weasley; a female Weasley. Females and Weasleys were explosive creatures to cross in Hermione's experience. Both? Why, that would have been suicide. "Would have been" being the key words. Hermione was no ordinary girl, hell, she wasn't even an ordinary witch. She could take care of a Weasley.

_Merlin, _Hermione thought. _I'm rambling. In my own head._

"Actually… Harry," Hermione interrupted, earning a sharp look from Ginny. "I was hoping we could talk."

Harry pursed his lips and glanced at her. Still angry about what Lavender told him, obviously.

"Please, Harry," she said, her eyes wide and pleading. "I really think we should talk. Holidays are coming up next week, and I don't know how much time we'll have together."

It was an excuse, crudely made and thinly veiled. Harry bit his lip. Hermione smiled.

"There's no reason we can't all go together," he said, half shrugging and returning to his meal.

"I didn't want to go as _friends_…" Ginny muttered, clearly at a loss of what else to say.

_Damn, _Hermione thought, _I was so sure she wouldn't ask him straight out. _

Harry could be dense at times. Before she was counting on Ginny's old shyness to return. As it turns out, the shyness died long ago.

"What do you, er, mean?"

Ginny smiled a bright smile at Harry. "I was asking you out on a date. I'm sure you and Hermione can find another time to talk. So what say you?" she asked playfully, reaching over and flicking a lock of hair off of his face.

Fury charged through Hermione. It was hard to hold back a few nasty jinxes. Her knuckles were white in her lap as her hands clenched and unclenched. Somehow she managed a tight smile when Harry glanced at her.

"I don't mind. Just meet me in the Three Broomsticks after your date."

Ginny was about to interrupt, clearly to object and say that she wanted the whole day with him, when Hermione glared her into silence. She had done this with Cho (not intentionally… of course), she could do this with Ginny.

"I'd like it if we can talk in private," she said, still directing all her attention to Harry. "There are a few things we desperately need to discuss."

Ginny looked furious. This time when Hermione managed a smile it was a real one. Harry was eating in silence. Both girls knew this was his way of agreeing.

A prickling on the back of Hermione's neck made her look up at the Slytherin table. A pair of pale, grey eyes were watching her.

_I'm going to need to talk to Malfoy as well. He may prove useful for once._

Hermione tilted her head almost unnoticeably towards the doors to the Great Hall. Malfoy nodded once and returned to his meal. Hermione gave Harry an excuse about studying and left. She waited in the Great Hall, tapping her foot and chewing on her lip. When Harry found out what she was doing he was going to be furious at her.

When Malfoy exited the Great Hall a moment later she pretended to be tying her shoe as she muttered, "Meet me in the Room of Requirement after curfew."

As Head Girl it was not unusual for Hermione to be seen making last minute rounds. The same went for Malfoy, though he was a Prefect. It also should not have been unusual for them to be seen speaking; however with the rumors Lavender was spreading they had to be discreet.

**&.&.&**

"What is this about, Granger?"

Hermione was sitting in an armchair. She bit her lip thoughtfully as Draco entered the room.

"The first time we met, do you remember it?" she asked.

Malfoy gave her a funny look. "Do you mean on the train? What has that got to do with anything?"

Hermione was confused. She didn't clearly remember the first time she saw Malfoy. Had it been on the train? Hermione shook herself. That wasn't what she was talking about.

"No, no. I mean the day you let me take your wand; when we went out to the lake."

Flames flickered in the fireplace. The sounds of crackling wood and heat reminded her of when she took the Vow. Had it been a mistake? A misjudgment on her part, perhaps? All she could think of at the time was her own clammy hands in Draco's, her own confusing thoughts and hope.

"Yes, of course I remember. Is this why you dragged me out here? For a stroll down memory lane? Get to the point," Draco snapped.

Hermione sighed. "Well, you said that the whole point of this vow was to eliminate the chances of him dating anybody else. We never added that to our vows."

_We never added that to our vows. _Hermione grimacedIt sounded as if they were discussing a marriage.

If Draco noticed her reaction to her own words he didn't comment on it.

"Yes. So?" he offered, flicking an imaginary piece of lint off of his robes.

"Why didn't you add it?"

He rolled his eyes. "I thought you would have figured that out for yourself."

Hermione forced herself to stay silent. People like him enjoyed baiting others for their own amusement. They craved a reaction. She would not reward him with one; not this time. After a lengthy silence he continued.

"It would only confuse the spell," he informed her. "We would have been offering to help each other win Potter's love, only to condemn the one who doesn't get it. Spells don't have minds. They do not understand the complexities of motives. Spells are there to give a command for our magic to follow. Something like a conflict of interests can be overcome in a Vow, but a conflict of commands? Ne-"

"Never," Hermione finished for him. Suddenly it became clear to her. "It's still in place, isn't it? Our original agreement?"

Draco seemed to be thinking quickly. "Yes. It is, but we will only help each other get other people out of the way. Everything in our relationships with Harry are only for ourselves, and Harry, to know."

Hermione turned her head to the side, inhaling slowly and deeply. "You see, the thing is… I really don't think I could betray Harry like that. If either of us really cared about him we would not manipulate him into loving us. It's wrong."

Draco snorted in disgust. "_Harry _couldn't possibly handle his own love life. He's only ever been in one relationship in all his years at Hogwarts. Besides, he never has to find out. We're doing him a favor. Think of all the horrible people who would like to take advantage of him. Think of how many people want to hurt him, Granger."

Hermione bit her lip hoping the pain of sharp teeth in tender flesh would help clear her mind. It didn't.

_Just this once. Ginny's no good for him. She can't be if she was willing to hurt me,_ Hermione assured herself hurriedly.

Malfoy was standing in front of her now. Cool and collected, his blond hair swept around his head. It looked so soft. Hermione had the fleeting urge to touch it. She shook it off. The flames in the grate were reflected in his eyes. She was momentarily mesmerized by how innocent he would look if she didn't already know he was a complete arsehole.

"What do you know?" his voice was soft, not edged with scorn or malice; just curiosity. It was a pleasant change.

Hermione knew she would confess eventually. Holding it in just swelled her jealousy and fury farther.

"Sit down. This may take a while."

_I'm going to regret this,_ she thought as Malfoy complied.

And with those words an alliance was formed.

* * *

**A/N: You know the drill :) Reviews feed my muse and make me update faster. I love any and all thoughts and theories. Completely unrelated but I'm just so in love with Law and Order. Just so, so much. The original episodes, CI, SVU, all of them. I also like CSI, but not as much. Anyway... _IMPERIO!_ Now, all of you, review. Now. -evil laughter-**


	19. At A Glance

Three Decembers

Chapter XVIII: At A Glance

_Fall into open arms that offer their protection._

_Quick to deny that they're open to deceit._

-AFI, At A Glance

* * *

The tears still lingered on Hermione's cheeks. Harry knew. He _knew. _Mortified was an understatement to how she felt. What must he think of her? Of all people- it had to be Lavender who heard her! The girl whose name that was usually followed with "that gossiping tart".

If things were difficult before…

Hermione inhaled slowly and tried to calm down, but all she could see was the glare Harry had sent her before he stomped up to his dorm. He had never looked at her that way before. It made her feel ill.

So Hermione did what she always did when upset. She pulled out her schoolbag and got started on some homework.

When she looked up from her ink stained hands and stacks of books and parchment, it was the middle of the night and she was too wide awake to sleep.

* * *

Hangovers were something Harry was beginning to suspect a person could never get used to. It was nearly midnight when he woke up. His head was throbbing. Luckily, he had the foresight of casting a silencing charm around the perimeter of his bed before vomiting noisily on his pillow.

_I need to find a way to get rid of these side-effects_, he thought as he cast a cleansing charm on his bedspread.

Amid the soft snores and murmurs of his dorm-mates, he got up and padded to the bathroom. As he did he slowly began remembering things from the day before. Each bed held a friend of his- who were they dreaming of? And if he found out, would he particularly care?

Dean turned over. Neville snorted and tossed his head. Seamus was just laying there, completely still, his mouth agape rather unattractively.

No, Harry realized. He wouldn't care what any of them dreamt of. Even if it included Malfoy.

Neville snorted again. Harry grinned.

The grin quickly vanished.

But he had cared what Hermione dreamt of. For a few pregnant moments, he had wondered- no _hoped_- it was about him. For the first time, he had thought of her in a blatantly sexual way.

If Ron was in one of those beds, still alive and sleeping soundly, would it matter what he was dreaming about? Who it might be about? He had no idea.

Harry washed his face in the sink, trying to rub away the last remnants of lethargy and soreness that the potion awarded him with. It had to be about guilt, trying to take Ron's place. Everyone knew Hermione and Ron were destined to be together- but they had never gotten the chance.

Harry stared at himself in the mirror. Was he trying to be Ron?

His reflected self was blurry. He had forgotten to put on his glasses before getting out of bed. He gently touched the mirror.

_Ron_, he thought, thinking of the Mirror of Erised's version of the redhead.

And then there was Draco, which was a different story altogether. Harry preferred to avoid the subject in his own mind and left it to what it was- a few makeout sessions and a desire to be close to somebody. Anything beyond that and Harry was running to his potion, trying valiantly to forget any conclusions he came to that made him uncomfortable.

Without really thinking about it, Harry grabbed his glasses and ventured down to the common room.

* * *

Hermione sat in one of the over-stuffed armchairs nearest to the fire. The fire flickered merrily in the grate, spreading golden light on everything nearest to it and casting dramatic shadows on the walls and floors. Portraits slept, or pretended to, in their mismatched frames that collaged the walls. Here Hermione felt home. She always had, ever since her first year.

A lone chess-table sat a little away from her. Try as she might she could not stop her eyes from wandering towards it. Ron had had his own chessboard when he was alive. He only forgot to bring it one year, the same year he died. As soon as he realized it he sent Pig back home with a note, demanding somebody send it to him as soon as possible. He was positively bereft until it arrived.

That was when they all worked together to transfigure it into a table in the common room, charming it to stick to the floor and making it so the pieces could not be removed from the surface (just commanded to move). Since Ron's family wouldn't be able to afford another proper wizard chess set, he had planned to transfigure it back before he graduated.

The summer was for quidditch, he said, though Hermione could see the sadness in his eyes at the prospect of leaving it.

Harry had bought him a chess set that year for Christmas. Hermione frowned when she remembered what she bought him: stationary, a quill set, and a guidebook on how to employ good study habits. She had got them both the same thing, because she thought there would be more time for personal gifts and that education was the most important thing.

It hadn't mattered. He never got the chance to open either present. He never got the chance to tease her about the gift she bought him, or to be embarrassed but pleased that Harry got him something so expensive and thoughtful.

He was killed that December, just as snow started to fall and people began wearing mittens and singing Christmas carols while remembering to _care_ again, because they always forgot until that time of year.

The gifts he bought them were found later, when he was already in the ground, presented neatly in a box, so cold and alone.

Molly had found them. She came down the stairs crying, carrying something in mismatched wrapping paper. Before Hermione remembered he was dead, she was surprised he had bothered to wrap it. That wasn't his style.

Underneath the wrapping paper was a small ring that didn't even fit any of Molly's fingers. It was simple, gold, with a pretty red stone in the center.

None of them could figure out where he got the money to afford it. Harry and Hermione knew, however, and when her gift was unearthed it made her feel sick inside.

Ron had bought her a necklace. It was simple and gold, as Molly's was. Personally, Hermione favored silver and was unsurprised that Ron did not notice. Dangling from the chain was a pendant with a strange design that looked familiar, but for the life of her, she could not recognize it. It had bothered her so much that she hid it in the box it was in at the bottom of her trunk and tried her best to avoid it.

Molly did the opposite, and wore the ring proudly on a chain at all times.

Hermione closed her eyes, remembering that winter.

A creaking staircase. Footsteps. Somebody was coming down from the boys' dorms. Hermione sat ramrod straight, wondering who could be up at that time of night. She must have made some kind of sound, because a voice rang out in the darkness soon after.

"Anyone down here?"

"Harry," she said, peeking over her chair at him.

"Hermione," he countered evenly.

Harry tentatively came forward and sat in the chair opposite her.

He appeared drawn and tired. The flickering light of the fire did not help. There was something wrong with his eyes. They had the dull appearance of polished stone, rather than a glittering gem. Hermione studied him, longing to get closer, to reach over and touch him.

He withdrew a ragged breath and she was brought back to the matter at hand.

How to broach the subject?

"Harry…" she began.

He brought up a hand. "Hermione, don't. Not now."

"It was a dream," she blurted.

Harry groaned into his palms. "I really don't want to talk about this."

"What is wrong with you! Why did you come down here, then?" she snapped without thinking.

"I didn't know anybody was here. I wanted to be alone."

"Fine!" Hermione snapped, pushing herself out of the armchair.

"Don't do this now," Harry pleaded.

"Do what?"

"Do that girl thing where you start yelling and stomp off, hoping I'll come after you, and if I don't you hold a grudge," he explained.

Hermione hated being cast into a stereotype, even if it was true.

"Then talk to me," she said.

"DoyoufancyMalfoy?"

"What?"

"Do you… fancy Malfoy?"

Hermione sat back down in her chair.

"No, of course not."

Did she? She had no idea. Was it even possible to fancy two people at the same time?

Ron passed her mind. At one time, she had feelings for him. Strong feelings.

But what of Harry? Did she have feelings for him all these years as well without realizing it?

"Are you sure?" he asked.

Hermione blinked in confusion.

"Oh. Yes, yes, I'm sure."

There was a lingering doubt that she could not suppress, even with those words.

Harry smiled a little. "Sorry. I s'ppose I should know better than to listen to that cow."

"Harry!" she scolded.

"Well, she is!"

Hermione shook her head and tried not to laugh. Relief was flowing through her. She still had her best friend.

* * *

Draco pulled away from Pansy. He turned over in his bed and watched her.

"You should get back to your dorm," he told her.

She was naked with the exception of the skirt bunched around her hips. Somewhere near the foot of the bed her shirt lay in a crumpled heap, and Draco could only pray she knew where her panties were, though she left them purposely with him on more than one occasion. He tried to give them back but she acted all insulted whenever he did, so he was holding a collection of them. Every once in a while he added panties from other girls to it. Or boys'. Draco was curious as to what her reaction would be if she ever discovered them.

"Can't I stay the night?" she whined. "Just this once?"

She smirked and slid her hands up his chest. "I can make it so you enjoy waking up."

"I always enjoy waking up," Draco deadpanned. "It means I'm still alive."

Pansy giggled.

He pushed her out of the bed.

"I wasn't joking," he informed her.

She scrambled back into his four poster.

"Somebody could have seen me!" she shrilled, still not attempting to cover herself.

"Then go put some clothes on."

"Can I wear one of your shirts to bed, at least," she pleaded, pouting.

Draco was about to say no when he changed his mind.

"There's a few in the bottom of my trunk," he told her.

A few moments passed.

"I don't see any shirts… hey, are these mine?"

Draco was positive the pride in her voice wouldn't last very long.

_Sorry, Pansy,_ he thought._ I need to be free to marry Potter._

* * *

News traveled fast about Hermione Granger's wet dream. Most didn't believe it, but it was a delicious piece of gossip regardless. Draco knew by lunch. Pansy, after throwing a fit the night before, completely ignored him throughout the day. He was in a good mood when he found out, and in an even better mood afterwards because when the news reached Pansy. She sent him such a loathing glare that he knew she assumed one of the panties in his "collection" were Grangers'.

It was absolutely hilarious, all of it.

And, well, anything that put Draco in the limelight usually put him in a good mood.

He was in such a good mood, in fact, that he caught Granger before dinner and pulled her aside.

"Wipe that smirk off of your face, Malfoy," she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

Draco chuckled. "That's no way to talk to somebody you-"

"Shut. Your. Mouth," Hermione snarled. It really wasn't becoming at all.

They were huddled together behind a tapestry, and Draco could see that she was getting antsy. It was with good reason. All they needed was one wayward student to stumble upon them and there would be a huge scandal. Draco was tempted. Hogwarts was becoming a boring place without house rivalry to spice things up.

The repercussions were not worth it, however. Potter would be even more difficult to acquire.

"What did you want?" she asked snappishly.

"I wanted to know if you found out who was, yet."

"Who what was?

Was Granger really this thick?

"The person Potter is shagging!"

Hermione huffed. "I already told you, Po-Harry isn't shagging anybody. Can I go now?"

"You're wrong. He's up to something, I know it," Draco said.

"So that means he has to be shagging? You've been up to things for years. Was that always your ulterior motive?"

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Please don't answer that," she said.

"Do you have any information at all?" he asked her wearily.

Hermione bit her lip and Draco knew she did.

"Tell me," he ordered.

"I don't know how important it is…"

"Let me decide, then."

A few students passed the tapestry. Hermione and Draco remained silent as they listened to them move down the hall, out of earshot. During this time Draco noticed that she appeared to be fighting herself over something.

"It's Ginny," she told him. "She's going to ask him to the next Hogsmead weekend."

Draco frowned thoughtfully. "I thought the Weasley tart might be a problem…"

"Don't call her that!"

Hermione didn't know why she was defending Ginny, except for the fact that she always would have done. Maybe it was habit. Maybe it was for Ron.

"Whatever, Granger. I didn't think Weasley would have the courage to ask him out."

"I didn't either," Hermione admitted.

The hallway was eerily silent.

"We're missing dinner," she observed.

"Grab something from the kitchens later if you're hungry. This is more important."

"What? Sabotaging Ginny from spending time with Harry? This is getting ridiculous, Malfoy. Maybe we should just call it all off."

Draco shook his head. "You're going to help me."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because," Draco said, "you want to win."

He took her silence as acquiescence.

"We both know that nobody could care about Potter the way we do. We both know nobody knows him like we do. We both know that if you're willing to fight for something, it had better be number one. The best."

"I don't see Harry as an object," Hermione snapped, disgusted.

"Yes, you do."

"Don't tell me what I think! You don't know me- and you don't know Harry at all! You've spent the past seven years hating him and treating him like dirt."

Hermione was about to reply when there were a flurry of footsteps outside of the tapestry. A few students late to dinner, Draco thought.

"Harry! Harry, wait a second."

Draco and Hermione stilled.

"Hey, Ginny," Harry greeted.

Something twisted in the pit of Draco's stomach.

"Harry, are you going to the next hogsmeade weekend?" Ginny asked him.

Their voices began fading as they continued down the hall. Draco strained to hear.

"…and would you like to come with me?"

Harry's reply was cut off as the doors to the great hall were opened and hundreds of students drowned their conversation out.

"Do you think he…" Hermione started.

"Find out," Draco said.

"But what can we do now?"

"Spy on them, Granger. What did you think we'd end up doing?"

* * *

Harry sipped his pumpkin juice, deep in thought. Ginny had asked him to their next hogsmeade weekend, a mere week away. During their brief conversation about it it was not made clear whether they were going as friends or as something more.

When Hermione slipped in late to dinner he barely registered it.

Ginny was pretty, he had decided that a long time ago. She was enjoyable to be around. He felt _something_ towards her. It was as unidentifiable to him as how he felt about Draco or Hermione, or _anyone_ lately.

Hermione was making meaningless conversation over her plate of potatoes. Harry was glad of it and only contributed with monosyllables and nods of the head.

His eyes drifted over to Ginny every so often.

Would it really be so bad if it was a date?

Hermione asked him to pass the salt. Their fingers brushed and a peculiar sense of warmth filled Harry's stomach. He stared anxiously at his plate, thinking maybe he was better off if it was a date he was having with Ginny, if only to get his mind off of things it should never have been on.

"So what are you doing on hogsmeade weekend, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Ginny asked me to go with her," he replied, unsure of why he felt guilty admitting it.

Hermione didn't look surprised. She chewed on her lip.

"And what did you say?"

Harry looked at her quizzically. "I said yes."

What did she think he would have said? It was Ginny, after all.

"Oh," Hermione murmured.

They went back to their dinner in silence.

* * *

After dinner Hermione caught up with Draco.

"He said yes," she said, without even a greeting.

"Bollocks."

"So what do we do now?"

Hermione felt panic. Harry couldn't be with Ginny- he just couldn't!

"Are you going to cooperate with me?" Draco asked her.

"Yes, I don't care!"

"Okay, so here's what we're going to do…"

* * *

**A/N: Yep. Haven't updated in a while, I know. I actually didn't expect to anytime soon. It just sort of... happened. This does mean that I will be updating regularly from now on. The only reason I haven't been is the book I'm currently working on- it takes up almost all of my writing time I have to spare. Now, however, I think I can juggle both. I was thinking about doing an entire rewrite, but I like how ridiculous this story is and how it borders on crack at times =] The chapters will be longer- around ten pages each.**


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